100 Themes or Underground Daydreams
by UndergroundDaydreams
Summary: A collection of one-shots for the 100 Themes Challenge. One chapter per theme. Rating varies by chapter. Updated as the mood strikes. *Update: Chapter 20 - Theme: I Can't - In which Sarah is the law, but can the law win against the Goblin King?*
1. Number 23: Cat

_**Author's Note:**_

_Rhymes. :)_

_This is just a collection of snippets, whimsies, scenes, daydreams, etc. for the 100 Themes Challenge, more of a writing exercise than fully developed stories. These are not beta-ed and I'm not spending nearly as much time editing them as I would if they were "official" stories. So, please forgive the lack of polish. This will be updated as the mood strikes, each chapter a different theme._

_The 100 Themes Challenge was posted in the Jareth/David Bowie Fangirl Harem Group (link on my profile). Essentially, you pick a number at random, look it up on the list, and write something based on the assigned theme._

_Standard disclaimer applies._

_Enjoy! Constructive criticism is always appreciated. :)_

---o0O0o---

Number 23: Cat

Sarah ambled slowly down the sidewalk, quietly observing the masses milling about Main Street in the late afternoon. She had stopped by her favorite used bookstore on her way home from school, a new treasure trove of fantasy stories safely tucked away in the backpack hanging heavily from her shoulder. She was debating whether to veer off toward the park to lose herself in another world, or head home where Karen was waiting for her to help clean the house for company this weekend. Already running late, she knew her stepmother would be in a snit, and really wasn't in the mood. What was another hour or two?

A growing cacophony interrupted her internal deliberation. Sarah slowed to a stop as she reached the edge of an alleyway running between two buildings, peeking around the corner.

She should have been reluctant, shocked, appalled, frightened, or at least annoyed, but curiosity had always been her weakness. Curiosity killed the cat, so the saying went. Lucky she wasn't a cat. In fact, she seemed to have a guardian angel out there somewhere, given her track record.

In the alleyway, a quartet of goblins were digging about in metal trashcans seemingly supervised by a cat, oddly enough, patched in caramel and cream, sitting serenely on top of a wooden crate, unaffected by the surrounding chaos.

"Hey," Sarah called out as she headed determinedly into the commotion, "what's going on?"

The clamoring stopped abruptly as four pairs of beady and bulbous eyes all turned to look at her guiltily.

"Um….nothing?" This came from a goblin with a metal colander on his head holding what looked to be an old, chewed up shoe tied by its shoelaces to a stick that topped him by at least a foot.

"We's on a mission!" A second, smaller goblin piped up excitedly, brandishing a crumpled up piece of paper and a half-eaten hotdog.

"Shut up!" Admonished a third, giving the smaller goblin a quick slap to the back of the head. Sarah decided he was probably the smartest of the lot – his stringy green-tinted afro reminiscent of a goblinesque Doc Brown.

The forth remained silent as he ducked back into the trash can, the crash of the lid reverberating loudly against the stone walls as he disappeared.

Sarah narrowed her eyes as she took in the three goblins and the goblin-turned-trash-can. The fact that they were here was not necessarily surprising – they were always around somewhere – but, rather, the fact that they were obviously up to something was cause for concern.

Momentarily startling her, the cat suddenly sprang down onto the pavement, crisscrossing coaxingly between her legs before jumping up on the trash can beside her. It regarded her with peculiar blue-green eyes, its tail curled up into a question mark.

It certainly didn't look like a stray, she thought as she reached out, her fingers running through its soft, shiny coat. It purred under her caress, leaning into her hand as she rubbed its ears, the vibration skimming happily along its length. Instantly delighted by the gorgeous, friendly feline, Sarah let her backpack slide from her shoulder to the ground, freeing both hands to devote to the charming little creature. She massaged its fluffy face as she cooed endearments before placing a kiss on its little nose.

The goblins giggled.

"Is this your cat?" she asked, turning back to address the three goblins watching her with interest. The fourth peeked out at her from under his lid.

"Not ours, that's…" started the shoe-sword wielding goblin.

"Shut up!" Doc Brown interrupted, a slap to the back of his companion's head sending the colander clattering to the ground. The injured goblin scurried after it, mashing it back on his head with a glare.

Deciding that, yes, there was definitely something fishy going on here, she narrowed her eyes again before turning back to look at the cat.

Something wasn't right. She took a nervous step back. _Did that cat just wink at her?_

Taking a flying leap from the trash can, the lid rattling in its wake, the cat morphed in mid-air, a figure of a man now standing in front of her. His honey-laced platinum hair fell in razor-edged layers just past his slightly pointed ears, haphazardly framing an exquisitely etched face. Cat-like blue-green eyes slowly trailed from the tips of her toes upward before finally locking with hers. A ruffled white silk shirt billowed out from snug fawn colored breeches tucked into mahogany knee-high boots. A feral smile spread lazily across his lips.

"It's not everyday one is molested by a pretty young woman." He winked at her again as if answering her unspoken question.

A blush stained her cheeks, Sarah now mortified at her behavior given the new development.

"Never mind my bungling crew here. They're just helping me out on a little project." A casual flick of his head sent the platinum streaks dancing. "You see, I'm a collector, of sorts. Goblins are particularly gifted at…obtaining things."

"Um…who are you?" she asked, taking another hesitant step backwards.

Drawn into the cat and mouse play Sarah unwittingly initiated, the eerily alluring stranger stalked towards her. Sarah took matching steps backwards until she found herself flush against the wall hugging the alley. He draped an arm lazily against the brick, effectively caging her.

"Gaven, second son to the High King and Queen of the Underground, and noted black sheep, at your service." He smiled rakishly, his eyes touching lightly on her parted lips before returning to her wary gaze. "I believe you're acquainted with my brother."

---o0O0o---

**_Author's Note:_**

_So, yes, goblinesque is not a word, but it should be. ;)_

_Oh, and there's another 80s movie reference scattered about in there somewhere._

_Raise your hand if you like Gaven...? I've been toying with the idea of continuing this little story - something along the lines of The Owl and the Pussycat (and the little mouse in a maze)? ;) Of course, nothing like the original poem, 'cause that would just be incestuous.  
_

_Thanks for reading! If you're so inclined, please leave a contribution in the little box. It would make my day. :)_


	2. Number 93: Give up

Number 93: Give up

"Give up. You'll never beat me."

Jareth shot Sarah a disparaging glance. "I never give up."

"You could always ask Hoggle, Ludo, or Sir Didymus for help." Sarah suggested, she thought helpfully.

"Absolutely not," he scoffed. "I don't need the help of the bungling crew of idiots you call friends. It's cheating."

"Making friends isn't cheating - it's a skill. There's even a book, 'How to Win Friends and Influence People'. You should read it."

His eyes shot heavenward before sliding to her in exasperation. As if reconsidering, he paused before giving her a slow once over, his lips curving into a smug smile. "I have other skills, precious."

She had no doubt. Choosing not to linger on it, she wandered off leaving him to find his own way. As an afterthought, she called out over her shoulder. "Be careful of the pond - Hoggle pees in it."

"Thank you for that delightful mental image."

"I aim to please," she replied cheerily.

Moments later, the thoughts she had told her self not to linger on were interrupted. "Damn! Blasted fairies!"

Sarah couldn't help but smile. "Having trouble?"

"Only minor. Although, I never quite tire of the sight of you on the ground with your skirts over your head." Sarah rolled her eyes.

"What was it you called this again?"

"Nintendo."

"Whatever it is, it's disgraceful." He tossed the controller down on the couch as he stood. "This is nothing like my Labyrinth."

"Well, the one concession is that you're considerably nicer at the end." Sarah replaced the lid on a pot of simmering red sauce on the stove. Turning to face him, she leaned against the counter crossing her arms over her chest. "Amazed and welcoming, in fact."

Navigating the short distance from the living room to the kitchen, Jareth came to a stop in front of her, mimicking her stance. "You constantly amaze me, Sarah." Reaching out, he let one finger trail along her jaw line before cupping her chin, his eyes searching hers. "How was I not welcoming?" he asked, his voice soft and low as he leaned in closer. "I could be considerably more welcoming if you'd quit being so stubborn."

She held his gaze, refusing to be moved. "I don't hook up with losers. You can't even get through your own Labyrinth."

Jareth sighed, letting his hand drop. "How long?"

"An hour, maybe."

"Hardly 13, but I can work with it."

Sarah smiled as she set the table. Jareth was sprawled across the couch, one leg draped over the arm, completely engrossed. Men, Fae kings or not, could always be counted on – so easily distracted by toys.

---oO0Oo---

**_Author's Note:_**

_Just a little scene that popped in my head - not fully hashed out or heavily edited. For those of you not familiar with it, this was inspired by the Labyrinth NES game. Sadly, it was only released in Japan, but you can download it and play it online for free. Those fairies will get you every time. And it amuses me that when Sarah dies, she falls down with her little feet kicking in the air._

_Thanks for reading! Please, leave a contribution in the little box. I love and appreciate the feedback. :)_


	3. Number 70: 67 Percent

**_Author's Note:_**

_**Update: This story is now being continued! 67% is now chapter 1 of Chasing Dreams. **_

_I have no excuse for this. Enjoy! ;)_

-o0O0o-

_**Number 70: 67%**_

The early afternoon sun streamed softly through her window, peaceful and warm, making her feel sleepy and nostalgic as she sat at her desk. The hazy glow made the spreadsheets on her computer seem farther away and less urgent as she stirred her tea, opting for daydreams over accounting. Sarah sighed happily as she leaned back in her chair admiring the view of her courtyard.

It was a little slice of fairy tale – a botanist's dream. Scattered about the courtyard were containers of every shape and size, home to an abundance of herbs: chamomile for sleep and meditation, hibiscus for love and protection, jasmine for prophetic dreams, among others. They were a marketing ploy, for the most part. The real magic stood regally in the center, its roots extending deep into the soil, spreading radially outward underneath the house that surrounded it, its leaves glittering in the sunlight. _Prunus persica_ - a peach tree.

It had started out innocently enough. Well, innocent probably wasn't the most appropriate word. The morning following her trip through the Labyrinth, she had woken to find a crystal sitting conspicuously on her nightstand. She was hesitant to touch it at first. When she finally caved to her curiosity and picked it up – _who could resist their dreams, really?_ – the hard crystalline surface had turned soft and fuzzy in her hand – a peach. _Arrogant prat. _Being prone to melodrama in her tender years, she wasted no time in hurling the offending piece of fruit into the stretch of woods behind her house.

But by a twist of fate and a little help from Mother Nature, the peach decayed and the seeds germinated and took root. She watched it grow over the years, set back a few feet from her yard, intrigued, but not overly concerned. It wasn't until it flowered and began to bear fruit that she realized the true potential.

She remembered the moment of discovery vividly. She had been home for summer break after her first year of college when she saw the first blooms. Sitting at the kitchen table, she had been staring sleepy-eyed out the window at the tree, willing reality to take hold with a mug of coffee-flavored sugar and cream. The house was quiet; her dad and stepmom having gone to work, and Toby away at camp. Merlin was flopped contentedly at her feet. It wasn't until the caffeine hit her bloodstream in full force that she noticed them – balls of feather and fur strewn about the base of the tree.

"Merlin! How could you?" Fearing the worst, she rushed outside to the scene of the crime. Birds, and squirrels, and even one little bunny, lay haphazardly under the shade of the tree, seemingly still and quiet. No blood, no sign of a struggle anywhere. Baffled, she kneeled down for a closer look. Little feet ran feebly, noses twitched. They weren't dead – they were dreaming!

"Curiouser and curiouser…" Sufficiently intrigued, she had settled into the grass to watch. As the morning wore on, each of the little creatures had woken up in their own time, and soon the tree was surrounded by happy, bouncing wildlife – squirrels playing tag up and down the trunk and through the branches, birds singing their tiny hearts out, the lone baby bunny dancing around in an aerial conniption fit of bunny-aerobics. It was like a warped Disney princess movie had come to life in her backyard.

So, being the red-blooded American girl that she was, she capitalized on it. She started small, selling teas to her sleep-deprived, stress-laden peers through college while filling out her business course load with electives in botany. She made a small fortune by graduation, using the money to build a house, uprooting herself and her tree to Georgia (it gave her a satisfying sense of authenticity), and to make her business official:

Sweet Dreams Herbal Supplements

_Magical rejuvenation just a dream away._

_(These statements have not been evaluated by the Food and Drug Administration.)_

Smiling at the memories, Sarah finished the last of her tea and turned her attention back to her computer. She had orders to fill and accounts to balance. She had made quite a bit of money over the years – the limited supply and rabid customer base driving the prices up to exorbitant levels. She didn't feel the least bit bad about it. Given that the tree was the only one of its kind this side of the Underground, she paid a hefty sum for a security system that would put a Cuban drug lord to shame.

But it did have its limitations. Sighing, she continued tallying last month's sales figures, choosing to ignore the shift in the atmosphere and the glitter sparkling among the floating dust.

"Sarah…" Annoyance radiated throughout the room.

"Shh, shh, shh!" She waved a hand distractedly, not bothering to look at him. "I'm adding."

Her attention was suddenly and forcefully arrested from her work as Jareth spun her chair around, caging her with one hand on each side of the desk. "I will not be ignored, Sarah."

He was close, leaning down to look her in the eye. Too close and too…Jareth-y. "Oh, it's you." She batted her eyelashes at him innocently. "Can I help you with something?"

"You know very well why I'm here, Sarah. I have hordes of people running willy-nilly around my Labyrinth uninvited. It took me a while to find the source. Resourceful of you, Sarah, really, but enough is enough."

"Too much on top of your baby-snatching duties?"

"Still refusing to accept responsibility?" He tsked at her and it rankled. "You offered and I took, as was my right."

Her ire ignited, she glared at him. "Be that as it may, you stole three hours of my time, set the cleaners on me, almost dumped me in the Bog of Eternal Stench, drugged me, and waged a goblin war - excuse me for holding a grudge. I could have died. Don't blame me for accepting your _gift_." She whirled back to face her computer.

"I wouldn't have let any harm come to you, Sarah," he said softly, his hands sliding from her desk.

She huffed and returned to her work, mashing the keys slightly harder than was necessary. After a few minutes had passed and the heaviness in the air hadn't abated, she stole a quick glance over her shoulder. He was lounging in her favorite cushy chair, one leg dangling over the arm, watching her. She turned back to her work. "Still here? What do you want, Jareth?"

His answer was quiet, but direct. "67%."

She whirled to face him. "What? You're out of your glitter-addled mind."

"Seeing as I do most of the work, I think 60% is more than fair."

She stared at him open-mouthed and incredulous. "And the extra 7%?"

"1% for each of my subjects that you have under your employ."

"Psh." She turned back to her computer. "It was my idea and it's my customer base, let alone that I make all of the products and handle all of the business. You're just miffed that you didn't think of it first." She was quiet for a moment, exhaling loudly before facing him and reluctantly adding, "Fine. 33% - 30% for the dreams and an extra 3% because I'm feeling _generous_."

He cocked an eyebrow. "You do drive a hard bargain, Sarah." He rose from the chair, stalking towards her. "But I accept." A feral smile crept slowly across his lips. "Perhaps we should seal our deal – a handshake…or kiss, maybe?"

She whirled back to her computer again. "Stuff it, your majesty." All this whirling was making her dizzy. It was not Jareth, not at all – at least she was determined to keep telling herself that. "Haven't you ever heard of not mixing business with pleasure?"

"Well that does rather take the fun out of things, don't you think?" He was behind her, his voice belying his arrogant amusement as he placed one hand on each arm of her chair, leaning over her shoulder.

She typed away at her keyboard, determined not to take the bait. "Don't you have dreams to weave, lies to sell…"

He chuckled lightly as he straightened, moving to lean against her desk. "So I do. I suppose we can discuss the details of our little…arrangement…later. Over dinner, perhaps?"

_Ugh._ He could make anything sound pervy. She slid him a sideways glance before turning her attention back to her spreadsheets. "Whatever. Bye, Jareth."

He chuckled again and she gritted her teeth, refusing to acknowledge the shivers it sent down her spine. "Until later, precious thing." And he was gone.

She sighed in relief as the air lightened and the glitter settled. That had gone better than expected. Then again, she had not expected to make a career out of dealing distilled goblin fruit to the masses, so she was pretty game for anything. She clicked save and lowered the screen of her laptop. Leaning back in her chair, she gazed again at her tree, literally glittering with magic. She knew she wouldn't have gone undetected forever and had been waiting for the day he'd show his face.

Yes, it had gone much better than she had expected. Sarah allowed a small smile to sneak past her defenses. It could turn out very interesting, indeed.

-o0O0o-

**_Author's Note:_**

_Thanks for reading! Please, leave a contribution in the little box. ;) Constructive criticism is always appreciated. :)_


	4. Number 30: Under the Rain

**_Author's Note:_**

_I'm having a little writer's block on another story I'm working on - stupid words not wanting to arrange themselves properly. So...there's this. Inspired by a short piece of prose I read in an independent college newspaper 12 years ago, Labyrinthized, of course. I would give credit for the idea if I knew who wrote it, but it was unsigned...so, much due credit & appreciation to you - whoever you are._

-o0O0o-

**_Number 30: Under the Rain_**

_I thought about you again today. _

_It was kind of surreal, really – like you were really there somehow. I left rehearsal late, around midnight maybe, and when I was walking home it started to rain. Softly at first, and then harder. I ducked into a storefront doorway, the fluorescent orangey-yellow light overhead harsh in the darkness, creating a bubble of too real reality. I watched the rain for a while, the drops like tiny crystals in the glow of the streetlamp, tear-shaped and a little sad. They pounded into the pavement, shattering one by one like so many lost dreams, creating an unnatural mist along the nearly deserted street. Overhead and along the side of the building, the rush and ping seemed to come in counts of three, almost like a waltz if I listened closely enough and wished hard enough to hear that song again. It was when a car passed, the headlights slanting quickly cross-ways into the darkness, that I thought I saw you, standing there across from me on the opposite sidewalk. It was no more than a flash, really – a face, a figure, a thought. I stepped forward, my heels jarring on the concrete, almost said your name. I searched the darkness for another glimpse, some kind of confirmation, a little too unsure to move either way, too frightened that if I took another step I'd lose you again. Lightening split across the sky, thundering against my heart – and you were gone. If you had been there at all. I walked home then, letting the rain wash over me, silently pleading for it to take away the memories._

_I seem to search for you everywhere, and sometimes I think I see you, like tonight. Am I just imagining it? I don't even understand it, really, this need to see you. Goblin King – my villain. If only it were that simple. _

_Why do you haunt me, Jareth?_

-o0O0o-

He studied her face in the soft glow cast by the small lamp on her desk, troubled in sleep, her lips slightly parted and her hair fanning out over the pillow as she lay on her side. A pen was clasped loosely in her fingers, forgotten.

_Why do you still fear me, Sarah? _

He slowly slid the pen from her grasp, setting it on the night stand. Lifting a blanket from the foot of the bed, he covered her and then switched off the lamp. He stood for a moment longer, the need to be near her almost painful. She was so beautiful in the moonlight, angelic almost, though he knew better. He reached out a hand, lightly brushing the hair away from her face, the tension easing from her features under his caress. She sighed in her sleep, snuggling deeper under the blanket and he ached to hold her, to be the one ease her worries - always.

_Why does it have to be this way between us, precious? What can I do if I can't let you go?_

-o0O0o-

She woke the next morning to a grey dawn, the previous night's thoughts still lingering through dreams and into wakefulness. A pervading sense of loss followed her, making her routine sluggish as she prepared for another day. Just before leaving for the theatre, she noticed her journal as she was picking up her bag. It had fallen sometime during the night to land closed in the narrow slit between the table and bed. Picking it up, she allowed herself a moment of recollection. She breathed in slowly and deeply as she slid her hand over the worn velvet cover hiding pages and pages of waiting and wondering and missing – him.

_Jareth…_

_if I said I didn't mean it…_

_would you come?_

_-o0O0o-_

**_Author's Note:_**

_So, yes, a little bit of star-crossed angst. I'm feeling a bit angsty myself lately, so I'm projecting. ;) And Sarah, melodramatic much? :/_

_Thanks for reading! Please, leave a contribution in the little box. Reviews are love and constructive criticism is always appreciated._


	5. Number 25: Trouble Lurking

_**Number 25: Trouble Lurking**_

_So much for that "quality time"._

Sarah sighed, squinting against the glare of the mid-day sun as she watched couples strolling along the boardwalk, and listened to the half-hearted call of parents to "Stay where I can see you!" as children splashed in the waves, playing games, and daring each other to do flips, or see how long they could hold their breath. She closed the book she had been reading, her feet swinging idly underneath the bench she had occupied every afternoon for the last five days. She let out another defeated breath. This wasn't exactly what she had in mind.

She had been excited, at first, when her mom had invited her to visit for a week at her small beach house in Santa Carla. She had gone on and on about how much fun they would have, complete with promises of days spent at the beach and nights watching old movies and going to the theatre. A mother and daughter take on the world adventure. However, as she should have expected, one half of that dynamic duo was notably absent.

Rather than the girl time promised, Sarah had woken each day to find a breezy excuse and a $5 bill on the kitchen table to "get herself some lunch". At least she didn't have to completely fend for herself. As much as she disliked her dad's new wife, she at least kept food in the house. Feeling the insistent pull of hunger, she slipped her book into her shoulder bag, heading across the street to the Circle K, just as she had every afternoon.

Sarah darted across the street, dodging skateboarders and the odd car, casting a wary glance at the two teens with neon mohawks leaning against the wall near the bathrooms, looking for all the world like they didn't give a damn despite the obvious effort put into their "don't look at me" get-ups. Leaning against the door, she pushed inside, the cool air conditioning a welcome respite from the heat.

The attendant behind the counter, the same one she had seen every day this week, called out a greeting as she entered. She offered a small wave and a half-hearted smile in return as she followed her nose to the hot dogs grilling on their mini merry-go-round. Choosing one that was slightly burnt and slathering it with ketchup and mustard, she zigzagged over to the slushie dispenser, methodically filling her plastic cup – one-third cherry, one-third grape, and one-third coca-cola. Reaching over to grab a lid and a straw, she paused as something shiny caught her eye. Two golden coins lay forgotten on the counter.

"Hmm." Picking them up, she took her purchases up to the counter, laying down the coins with a soft ping. "Hey, Jeff. Do you know what these are? I found them over by the slushie machine."

He glanced at the objects in question as he rung up the sale. "Tokens."

"Tokens? For what?"

"For the carnival just down the road. You should take them; check it out. Sitting by yourself reading all day is no way for a young girl to spend her summer vacation," he said with a pointed look over his glasses.

"I like reading." She gave him the cash for her makeshift lunch, scooping up the tokens. "But maybe I'll check it out."

He passed over her change. "Just be careful. Keep your head up. Strange characters in this town."

Leaning backwards against the door, she sunk slowly back into the heat as it opened. "I've noticed and I will. Thanks." She smiled before turning to leave. "See you tomorrow!"

The top tier of the Ferris wheel was visible in the distance. She had noticed it before, but hadn't given it much thought. Five bucks didn't stretch very far. She took a bite of her hot dog, considering.

A soft flapping behind her caught her attention, and she turned back to see an owl perched on the roof of the convenience store.

Odd.

It puffed its feathers before flapping its wings once, twice, the third time becoming airborne. She watched as it made a small loop over her head before gliding gracefully in the direction she had just been contemplating.

She took a sip of her slushie. _Strange things are afoot at the Circle K…` _

Well, she had the time, and she had the tokens. It wouldn't hurt to take a quick look. Taking the last bite of her hot dog, she shrugged, throwing the paper in the trash bin before following.

-o0O0o-

The carnival was nearly deserted; not surprising for 1:00 on a Friday afternoon. She passed by skeeball machines, old-fashioned ping-pong games, and an empty room promising Bingo every Tuesday night. Wandering out into the main fairway, she smiled as she watched young families ushering small children onto kiddie rides, snapping pictures indiscriminately. The Ferris wheel loomed ahead and she meandered toward it; the view alone would certainly be worth parting with her small treasure.

As she reached the ticket booth, she spotted something decidedly more interesting off to the side of the glaring monstrosity. It was a small covered wagon, much like she imagined one might find in a gypsy caravan. The sign above the door read: Fortune Teller: Fortunes Forecast, Lucky Charms. A smaller sign below it provided all the incentive she needed: 2 Tokens.

Stepping up to the entrance, she knocked softly on the wooden frame. "Hello?"

The curtains flung back with a whoosh, and a middle-aged woman, working the gypsy angle for all it was worth, filled the small doorway. "Well, well, a young girl."

Sarah took a step back, the breeze from the grand entrance kicking up dirt and making her cough. Batting at the floating dust, she cleared her throat before looking back at the woman. "Ah, yes - you tell fortunes?"

"That I do, dearie, that I do. Madame Zora sees all. And I can see you have wondrous things in your future." She stepped back with a flourish, her myriad bracelets jangling. "Come inside, come inside."

Sarah stepped up warily, crossing the threshold into a dimly lit, cluttered little room, the air thick with incense. Madame Zora followed behind, letting the flap close and taking a seat behind a small table boasting a rather large crystal ball. Sarah sat down across from her.

Madame Zora eyed her critically, lips pursed, before finally lifting her arms and speaking in a hushed tone. "Now, close your eyes. Think only of the deepest wishes and desires of your heart. Concentrate on the answers you are seeking." Her accent was vaguely European, and badly done at that. Sarah obediently closed her eyes, biting the inside of her lip to keep from smiling.

At her compliance, Madame Zora continued. "From the mists of time… come forth, spirits!" Sarah could see an increased glow from beneath her lashes. "Now open your eyes and look…" she whispered. Again Sarah obeyed. The crystal was in fact glowing, rather unremarkably.

"Spirits – lend us your guidance! Oh!" Madame Zora startled and then leaned closer to see the messages from said spirits. "Ah…a face appears. A handsome face…a face of a king."

Sarah couldn't help but laugh at that. "A king?"

"Oh, yes. And a love…an unrequited love. Hmm…" She studied the crystal silently for a few moments before looking up at Sarah as the light in the crystal grew dim once more. "Say your right words, Sarah…and you will be free."

_How does she know my name? _"My right words?" This lady was crazy. "How will I know what the words are?"

Madame Zora straightened, and reaching beneath the table, pulled out small book. "Ah, yes…the spirits have been generous. They have instructed me to give you this." She slid it dramatically across the table.

Sarah eyed the book dubiously. Well, at least she'd have something to do over the weekend. She picked it up, flipping the pages. Not bad for two tokens. She looked up at the flamboyant woman across from her. "Um…thanks?"

Madame Zora stared at her a moment before leaning forward and taking her hand. "Remember, young woman, nothing is set in stone. You make your own destiny." She had lost some of the accent and seemed somewhat hesitant.

"Ok. I'll remember." Sarah rose to leave. "Thank you…Madame Zora."

"That'll be two tokens for the fortune."

"Oh, right." Sarah dutifully dropped two tokens in the empty fishbowl clearly designated for just such a purpose with a hand-written sign that said: Put your tokens here. Her gaze slid from the book in her hands, to Madame Zora, then around the room, before settling back on the odd woman once more. "Well, thanks." She turned to leave, slipping through the curtains.

She heard Madame Zora call after her, "Remember what I said."

_Right._ That lady was clearly off her rocker.

-o0O0o-

Madame Zora slumped in her chair, listening to the girl's footsteps fading as she walked away. She took off her turban, running her fingers through her hair. She felt a little unsettled – _did she do the right thing?_

Not long before the girl had come knocking, she had been taking a smoke break behind her wagon. One minute she was alone, and the next – she wasn't.

"A word, please." The low baritone startled her and she looked up to find a strange looking man leaning against the tree across from her. Although, she had seen stranger – this was Santa Carla, after all.

"I don't suppose you want your fortune told?"

"Not as such." He smirked slightly. "A young girl will be stopping by, by the name of Sarah." He unfolded languidly from the tree and handed her a slim red book. "Give her this."

She took the offered book. _The Labyrinth_ was written in gold embossed letters across the velvet cover. "What is it?"

He leaned back against the tree, idly tapping a riding crop against his boot. "A present."

This was a little weird. "What business do you have with a young girl?"

He slid her a sideways glance. "It's none of your concern, gypsy." He straightened, and walking towards her with a disarming smile, handed her a folded bill. "For your trouble."

She took it, sliding it into her bra, not one to turn down a tip. "Sure thing." He nodded and walked away. She wasn't sad to see him go. Only partially because he gave off a slightly creepy pedophile vibe, but mostly because the parting view wasn't half bad. You had to have balls to walk around in pants that tight, even in Santa Carla.

It was a weird day, weirder than usual. She reached into her bra unfolding the $50 bill. She really needed to get a new gig – this gypsy act didn't pay jack. Slipping the bill into her purse, she grabbed her cigarettes and headed out back to kill time until the next sap came knocking.

She couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't quite right. She had been flipping through the book when the girl knocked – it was a simple fairy tale. She took a drag, letting go of the niggling guilt as she exhaled.

It was only a book - what harm could it possibly do?

-o0O0o-

**_Author's Note:_**

_A how-Sarah-got-the-book story to add to the stack. ;) _

_I couldn't help but notice that she has a picture of the animated fox for Disney's Robin Hood in the scrapbook in her room, who I happen to have a minor crush on, which brought to mind the opening scene where they pretended to be gyspsy fortune tellers and robbed Prince John. Also, set this in Santa Carla, the fictional California town of The Lost Boys fame. I really wish someone would write a Labyrinth/Lost Boys crossover one of these days..._

_And there's another movie quote in there - did you see it? ;)_

_Thanks for reading! Please, leave a contribution in the little box. Just one little click can brighten someone's day. :)_


	6. Number 14: Smile

**Number 14: Smile**

Though his guitar leaned idly against the lone wooden stool, he twirled his partner, gliding gracefully to the beat of the crowd surrounding them in the city street clapping in harmony to the lingering memory of his song. Giving the young girl a final twirl, her hair swung around to reveal her glowing face, pleased to be singled out and treated like the princess her dad always told her she was. Reaching into the cloth bag hanging from his waist, he handed her a small crystal and reminded her always to dream. She smiled up at him, dimples popping out in her rounded cheeks, before hurrying over to her dad who had been watching from the sidelines. He gave the man a grateful smile of his own for making his daughter feel special as he scooped her up in his arms. The man nodded in acknowledgment.

He offered a gracious smile to the applauding crowd with a slight bow of his head, his ragged ash brown layers falling forward over his eyes. He noted the admiring glances trailing up from his black wingtips and slim-cut trousers, over his white t-shirt to search the strong angles of his face, trying to catch his eye. He would flirt from time to time as it suited him, but he always kept his distance.

Brushing a hand through his hair, he turned with the intent to collect the hat that lay on the curb and whatever tips it may hold left by those willing to show their appreciation in a more tangible way, only to pause as he spied a woman with long dark hair. She was leaning over to drop a five dollar bill in the hat, and as she straightened, a pair of dancing green eyes met his. She smiled at him before turning to find her way back though the crowd.

He knew those eyes. He had been searching for them for three years.

Shocked out his temporary paralysis, he hurriedly thanked the crowd, grabbing his hat and dumping the money into his backpack. Folding the stool, he snapped it into the harness he'd attached to the guitar case, and slipped the instrument inside. Wrapping a striped tweed scarf haphazardly around his neck, he perched the now empty hat on his head as he slung both the guitar and his bag over his shoulder. He wove nimbly through the dispersing crowd, ignoring the stray comments and bids for his attention in his haste not to lose her.

He felt the knot in his chest loosen as he spotted her at a newsstand a block up, and he slowed his pace, but not by much. He had been waiting for this moment and now that it was here, he was a little at a loss. He felt unsure of himself, although it wasn't an entirely new feeling, never when she was involved.

Walking up quietly behind her, he reached around in front of her, a crystal in his hand. "A pretty dream for a pretty lady," he cajoled on a whisper close to her ear.

He felt her tense at the sound of his voice so unexpectedly close, but as her eyes fell on the crystal, she relaxed, a small smile playing at her lips. She cast him a curious glance over her shoulder, her hair floating about her face in the breeze. "For me?"

He let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and smiled. He hadn't frightened her. Bringing his arm back around her slender frame, he let the crystal skim across the back of his hand, and tiptoed it over his fingers before offering it up once more. "For you."

She had turned to face him as he had coaxed her with the slight of hand, her arms crossed over her chest in playful admonishment. "I bet you give these to all the girls."

He winked at her. "Only the dreamers with the sky in their eyes and the moon in their hearts."

She lifted a teasing brow, but her eyes sparkled. "So you're a poet, too?"

"When in the presence of such a muse." He lifted his hand. "Do you want it?"

She smiled at him coyly, taking the crystal with barely concealed girlish delight. "Yes." That one word carried away the weight of all his hope and wondering, and he felt himself relax, his carriage dropping into his usual languid self-awareness.

She rolled the delicate sphere back and forth between her hands. "I've seen you juggle these, you know." She looked up into his eyes. "You're amazing."

"You've seen me juggle?" He hadn't brought out the crystals today. Feeling more musically inclined, he had opted for his guitar, making up songs on a whim to please the passersby.

"Not today…I've seen you before." She smiled shyly, looking down at the crystal gliding back and forth over her palms, hinting at her slight nervousness.

_She'd seen him before._ He felt a tiny pang in his chest as it tightened. To think he'd missed her once. He'd been careless. He watched her for a moment willing her to look up again, and when she did, he brushed the thought aside. He was with her now, and it was going better than he had ever hoped.

She smiled, teasing. "How many of these do you break?"

"Enough."

She laughed, the sound bubbling though him, light and happy. He grinned back at her. "Would it be ok if I bought you a cup of coffee?"

"Coffee? Ah…sure." She gave him a quick once over that he didn't miss as she turned to walk towards the coffee shop a few doors down. "I'd love a cup of coffee."

He opened the door for her as they reached the shop, and they made their way over to two empty stools at the bar, ordering two coffees, hers with raspberry and cream, and his black.

Once they had settled and had their drinks, she turned to study him with narrowed eyes. "You're English."

"Did the accent give me away?" He winked. "Yes. I'm from round about the British Isles…originally."

"How did you end up here?"

"I travel quite a bit."

"Why?"

"Searching for something – a dream of something."

"A dream." She smiled wistfully, looking down into her cup. "That's nice."

They chatted, laughing and enjoying each other's company as they sipped their coffees, the steam swirling up to create cocoon of contentment until there was only the two of them. The world seemed brighter, and he felt a peace he'd never thought he could feel.

Setting her empty cup aside, she looked up at him, a curious expression on her face. "You know, you seem familiar to me. Something about your eyes…or something. I'm not sure…"

"Do I?" He looked up at her from under his lashes as his took off his hat, setting it on the bar. "Perhaps we met in a dream once."

She laughed. "Wow – these lines! Do they really work?"

Smiling, he draped himself lazily across the bar, propping an elbow up to rest his head in his hand as he gazed up at her. "You tell me. You're the first." _And only_, he silently added.

Her eyes drifted up and away, a smile pulling at her lips. "Maybe a little." She looked back at him, sinking onto the bar to mirror his pose. "What's your name, by the way?"

"Jay"

"Thank you for the coffee, Jay," she said softly, the words carried on a come-hither undercurrent.

"You're very welcome…," he returned, mimicking her tone while raising a brow in question.

"Sarah." She straightened then, her smile fading slightly as she stood. "I'm afraid I have to go. I was on my way to meet someone, and if I don't hurry, I'll be late."

Following her lead, he rose, sliding his bag and guitar over his shoulder, and grabbing his hat. "I'll walk you out."

They paused outside the door to the coffee shop, the bell overhead fading as they stared at each other, neither willing to be the first to say goodbye. He reached out for her hand, holding it in his as his thumb traced lightly across her skin. "Sarah. It's been enchanting. Can I see you again?"

Searching his gaze for a moment longer, she reached out hesitantly to brush aside a strand of hair that had fallen over his eyes. "I'd like that." She wrote her number on a scrap of paper she had found in her purse, and placed it in his palm with a shy smile. "Thanks again for the coffee. It was…unexpected…and lovely."

"As are you." He smiled softly in return as she turned to walk away.

He'd known she wouldn't remember, despite the change in his appearance, the light lifting from his hair and the marks fading from his skin when they'd drained his magic. They'd warned him that to her it would just be a dream.

He'd broken the rules, giving her that book, and had been so sure that he'd make her his. She'd humbled him as he watched her brave his Labyrinth, and when she'd rejected his offer. He'd gone about it all wrong, and he knew that now. This was a second chance, and he wasn't going to let her slip away again.

He'd made his way from city to city, charming crowds with his impromptu songs and juggling crystals. He didn't make much, but he got by, and having little made the travel easier. He had been searching for three years and it felt surreal to have that little slip of paper radiating hope in his fingers.

Just as she was about to turn the corner, she looked back at him and smiled. He lifted the small piece of paper, a silent promise that she'd be hearing from him again soon, and let his fingers open out into a small wave.

When she had looked at him with affection and laughed with him in joy, he'd known he'd done the right thing. It had been worth it. Everything he had done and everything he'll ever do will always be for her. He'd given it all up and he would do it again – an eternity for a smile.

-o0O0o-

**_Author's Note:_**

_Thanks for reading! Please, leave a contribution in the little box. :)_


	7. Number 17: Blood

**Number 17: Blood**

Her heart raced and she quickened her pace to match it when she heard them: footsteps. The path she was following was dimly lit by a thin slice of moon and the few streetlamps whose bulbs hadn't burned out. Her shoes slipped on the concrete of the sidewalk slick from the earlier rain. The footsteps were steady, confident, neither slowing nor speeding up, but always just behind her. Reaching the iron fence surrounding her apartment building, she threw open the gate, not taking the time to shut and latch it, and bolted for the ancient door. She struggled with the key in the lock, her hands slick on the wet metal and her nerves making her hands shake. Just as the key slid into the lock – his voice.

"Sarah."

She spun around, her hand remaining on the key, turning it as she faced him. "Leave me alone."

"I grow tired of this game, Sarah."

"I don't want you. I don't want this. Why can't you just go away?" Her voice was strained as she choked on her desperation, feeling a momentary respite as the lock beneath her hand clicked. She pushed backwards, stumbling through the doorway as it opened with a groan.

"You know very well why I won't." A crystal appeared on his fingertips and he held it out to her. "Take what I am offering you."

Her heart fluttered in panic as he advanced, the crystal glinting in his outstretched hand. Clearing the door, she rushed for it, pushing with all her strength to shut him out. Just as it was about to close, he flipped his hand and slammed it against door, the crystal shattering against his palm.

Sarah took a few faltering steps backward as Jareth lifted his hand from the splintered wood, blood dripping from where the crystal had pierced his flesh. The blood glistened as it ran in stark contrast to his porcelain skin, his razor edged hair whipping in the wind. He looked up at her, a mocking smile creeping across his lips. His icy eyes locked with hers.

"You want to play rough, then?"

She heard the threat beneath the lilting, teasing words and she fumbled behind her for the stair railing. "No…please…I didn't mean…"

He closed the distance between them in a flash of movement, his injured hand wrapping around the back of her neck as he pulled her against him. She whimpered as the slivers of his shattered offer scraped against her sensitive flesh, tiny rivulets tracing a path down the column of her spine – his blood and hers.

His words came as a whisper harsh against her lips as her head began to spin. "That blood, that pain you feel – that's my blood, my pain, my magic. You feel it, don't you? Mixing with yours, seeping into your blood stream. You drew that blood, that pain, and I'm giving it to you. Haven't I always given you what you wanted? But the catch, Sarah, is that even while I give you my very essence, it's still mine to control." His lips ghosted over hers as the blood seared in her veins and the world slowly faded to black. "I own you…little bird."

-o0O0o-

Jareth rose from his desk, striding gracefully around the large bed in the center of the room toward an alcove near the window set back in the stone wall of the circular room. A large gilded cage dominated the space, home to a small owl. She was perched on the center bar, her feathers ruffled and her eyes narrowed to slits as she watched him approach.

As he reached in the cage, her beak snapped at the soft pad of his finger. He laughed lightly as a small bead of red blossomed on the tip before bringing it to his lips and sucking gently to stem the flow. Jareth tapped her lightly on beak. "Still like to play rough, my pet?" He closed the small barred door leaning down to eye level with the angry bird. His pointed teeth flashed as he gave her a predatory smile. "Let's see how much you fight after the sun sets, shall we?"

He left soon after, the light fading as the day wore on, giving way to twilight. As the last arch was visible over the expanse of the Labyrinth, the final ray of the setting sun struck upon a small crystal embedded in a pendant at the base of the cage, sparking a flash of light that shot across the room. The small owl that had been dozing in the warm afternoon sunlight vanished and the crystal slowly began to spin.

-o0O0o-

She was back again, as she was every night. Or at least he assumed it was night. It was so easy to lose track of time here, trapped as they were in a time loop of their basest desires, driven by instinct and need – primal, like caged animals. Wrath, greed, sloth, pride, envy, gluttony, lust – they all ran rampant here. But even depravity became boring over time.

She was different. She appeared each night like a ghost, pale and translucent, here but not. He had wondered sometimes if she was just the figment of a stagnant imagination. She wandered through the throngs of dancing, cavorting couples, searching. Her gown flowed like cream, flutters of fabric draping from her arms and shoulders like broken wings, and her eyes, a startling green, scanned the crowd from behind a feathered mask. He had spoken to her once, and she hadn't even known her name, let alone where she was or what she was searching so desperately for. Her name was Sarah; he had heard him call her that.

The object of her quest never let her search in vain for long. He always sought her out, sweeping her into his arms and across the floor. The blood rushed to her skin in a pretty blush when he took hold of her, as if her blood yearned for him. She seemed more real, complete, when he came for her, and they laughed, and smiled, and danced.

Every night it was the same. She appeared, lost and faded. And he would come to bring her to life.

She was the King's favorite. They never stayed long.

-o0O0o-

**_Author's Note:_**

_A not-so-nice Jareth because I'm in Halloween mode. ;) Thanks for reading! Please, leave a contribution in the little box. :)_


	8. Number 22: Mother Nature

**Number 22: Mother Nature**

_Ah, so she still thinks about me._

Jareth watched from his tower room as Sarah, after all that she had been through, after the story had come to life, was reciting those very lines that tortured him after their final confrontation mere months before. Her once angelic face swam in the swirling depths of the crystal perched on his gloved fingers as she held the book in her delicate hands, her countenance more mature and troubled as she said the words.

_What no one knew was that the king of the goblins had fallen in love with the girl._ Her thumb swept over the printed words as her brow creased.

She had forgotten that bit in her haste to rescue her brother. It now seemed to be all she thought about. He smiled. Perhaps all was not lost after all. Vanishing the crystal, Jareth closed his eyes, the wind picking up swiftly, whipping his hair about his ashen angular features.

At the same time in another place, Sarah looked up from her book, as the cold wind brushed along her skin and through the trees of the neighborhood park. She could feel the first hints of rain kissing her warm skin as the sky darkened and thunder rolled in the distance. A storm was coming. _Could it be…_

"Stop. Stop it right now."

His lips hardened into a thin line as Jareth turned his icy gaze to the woman standing reproachfully in the doorway of the castle tower. The wind that had been building died down a bit with the break in his concentration. "Mother."

"Don't use that tone with me. You know why I'm here."

He narrowed his eyes, concentrating his annoyance at the interruption at the diminutive yet imposing woman.

She sighed before walking over to the irritated monarch and placing a hand on his cheek. "Jareth, love, you're going to kill my daffodils. They've only just begun to sprout and they blossom only once a year. That patch is particularly lovely – a stolen bit of wild sunshine tucked into the dark shadows of the wood."

He looked away from her to gaze out on his Labyrinth, the anger fading slightly from his features. "It's only a little rain."

"Only a little rain?" She tsked and he glanced at her briefly. "We've had this talk before. There's a time and place for everything - a natural order. You can't just whip up a storm any time you want merely to impress a young girl."

"She wants a villain, and I'm giving it to her."

The woman placed her hands on each side of his waist, turning him to face her. "Jareth, listen to me." She gave him a look of impatient understanding as he gazed stoically down into her fathomless eyes.

He respected her, true – she was the mother of all things – timeless, and of the moment, the embodiment of all the senses. But, frankly, she was getting on his nerves. "Don't meddle with things you don't understand."

"You think I don't understand? Do you forget that I am a woman, too?" She smiled up at him. "We do like the idea of the villain – the danger, the mystery, the risk. But more than that, we like the idea of the softer place hidden in all that hardness, a place hidden from the world and revealed only to us. Cruelty and beauty – it's delicate balance, a necessary balance." She moved her hand to place it over his heart. "Perhaps you should try a little tenderness, for a change."

He stared down at her a moment before glancing away again, his hand coming to rest over hers. "Perhaps."

She squeezed his hand as she pulled away. "It's bad enough that I have to deal with all this global warming and the chemicals pumped into my world, I don't need you mucking things up on top of it. And that bog of yours – I should never have let you create such a thing. It's a perfect affront to nature, and, frankly, it's disgusting. Boys and your imaginations." She shook her head in exasperation. "I have to draw the line somewhere. No more unscheduled storms, then?"

A small smile tugged at his lips as he turned to look at her again, amusement shining though his dwindling irritation. "Of course."

She smiled at him before turning to leave. As she reached the arched doorway, she looked back at him a final time. "And Jareth…there's a lovely rose bush in that park, hidden among the trees. Cruel and beautiful. Red, I believe. Perhaps a token of affection for your young love?"

Jareth looked up from the crystal he had conjured, Sarah's face confused and wistful as she gazed at the clearing sky. He smiled softly, his whispered words trailing after the retreating figure as she vanished from the room. "Thank you, Mother."

-o0O0o-

**_Author's Note:_**

_Thanks for reading! Please, leave a contribution in the little box. :)_


	9. Number 87: Food

**Number 87: Food**

_My Lady, the Queen has passed! The whole of the Underground is in mourning for her departed soul. It is but the natural course, but…we shall miss her._

Sarah thought about Sir Didymus's news that morning as she chopped vegetables for a salad. Dad and Karen were out for the night and Toby was asleep upstairs. Dinner for one – again.

_Queen._ The queen had died – a queen she hadn't even known about. She had maintained contact with her trio of friends from the Labyrinth over the past few years since The Night, and she had caught snippets of information about the people and politics of the Underground when they mentioned it from time to time. But nothing about a queen. It made her feel…she didn't really know, but whatever it was, it wasn't pleasant. It hung like a shadow over her day, taunting her. So, she did what everyone does when someone dies – she headed for the kitchen.

She wasn't sure about it, but she didn't know what else to do. She hadn't spoken to Jareth since That Night, but she thought she should do something. Condolences, acknowledgement of his loss, something. So she baked – strawberry shortcake with dark chocolate mousse. And she had asked Hoggle to deliver it to the king that afternoon.

Now that she thought about it, it seemed a silly thing to do, but it was too late now. Sarah sighed, using her knife to slide the tomatoes from the cutting board into the large wooden bowl filled with leafy greens. What's done is done.

"Hello, Sarah."

"Holy crap!" The knife clattered to the counter as she spun around to face the owner of the smooth baritone too close to her ear. Her eyes snapped up and locked with his. "You scared me." She swallowed her rising panic. "What are you doing here?"

"Relax, Sarah." He tilted his head and offered her a small, amused smile. "I'm merely paying a visit to an old friend."

She swallowed again, relaxing her death grip on the counter behind her as her eyes shifted downward to the object in his hands. "That's my cake."

He quirked a brow. "I thought it was mine."

She looked back up at him. "Well…yes…I mean, I made it. For you."

"I was curious about that."

"It's just something we do when someone dies. You know, to offer comfort." She turned back to the counter, picking up the knife and sucking in air that suddenly seemed in short supply.

She watched as the cake slid slowly onto the counter beside her, his hands lingering on either side, caging her. She stilled as she felt his wild hair tease the side of her face. Somehow having a large knife in her hand didn't give her any reassurance at all as his familiar seductive voice slid over her senses. "Share it with me?"

"Share it? With you?" She squeezed her eyes closed in embarrassment at the squeak in her voice. "Um…I was actually just making dinner."

"Even better."

She turned to face him as she felt him retreat. She watched with wide, bewildered eyes as he removed his jacket and draped it over a chair at the kitchen table. "What are you doing?"

He smiled as he rolled up the sleeves of his blousy shirt before meeting her eyes. "Helping. What are we making?"

She stared at him blankly, the knife clutched tightly in her hand. "You're staying for dinner?"

He closed the distance between them in a few short strides, slipping the knife from her grip. "So it would seem. Shall I finish with the vegetables?"

"Um…ok." She moved aside as he took her place at the counter, dazed at the turn of events. She was evidently going to be having a casual dinner with the Goblin King. What kind of alternate reality had she stepped into?

She watched as he expertly chopped a green pepper, sliding the perfect slices into the bowl. He glanced at her as he reached for the radishes. "I assume there's more than salad to this meal?"

His voice startled her out of her trance. She took a step back, looking around the kitchen in momentary confusion. "Oh…right." Her gaze fell on the refrigerator and it came back to her. "Salmon." She sighed softly, releasing the tension that had crept into her shoulders. "We're having salmon." She offered him a small hesitant smile before heading towards it and busying herself with pulling out the ingredients.

Finished with the salad, Jareth came to stand beside her, inspecting the bottles and bowls laid out on the counter as Sarah placed the salmon fillets onto cedar planks. He inspected each spice jar in turn before looking her way. "Honey?"

"In the cabinet."

"And lemon?"

"Refrigerator."

He smiled at her and began gathering additional ingredients, mixing them in the small bowl she had set on the counter. Sarah snuck glances at him as he worked, smiling to herself as he began to hum softly. She recognized the song; it was the one they had danced to. Retrieving the asparagus she had washed earlier, she bundled it and placed it in a pot to steam. That done, she moved on to set the table. It was so surreal that he was here at all, let alone cooking dinner. She took her time setting out the dishes, watching him.

Before long the asparagus and salmon were ready and they brought both to the table along with the salad. Jareth pulled out a chair and Sarah glanced at him cautiously before taking the seat. "Champagne or wine, perhaps?"

"Oh…um…I think there are still a few bottles of champagne left from dad and Karen's anniversary party in the door of the refrigerator." She looked up at him. "But I'm not really old enough to drink."

He leaned in a little closer, resting his elbows on the back of her chair, that dangerous disarming smile on his lips. "Allow me to tempt you? Just this once?"

She nodded silently, any words she might have spoken lodged in her throat. He nodded once in acknowledgement and turned to retrieve the champagne. She listened as she ran her hands over her face and into her hair - his boots clicking on the linoleum, the suck of the rubber seal on the refrigerator door, the tinkle of glass. His presence alone was intoxicating; she didn't know if she'd survive the alcohol. She rested her head in her hands, letting out a slow breath. _Be cool, Sarah. Your kingdom is as great, and all that._

She looked up as he set two crystal flutes on the table, filling both with a generous amount of the bubbling liquid before taking the seat across from her.

"A toast?" He raised his glass and she followed suit, holding his gaze. "To old friends and to…getting reacquainted." He touched his glass to hers, the chime of the crystal high and musical, and somehow slightly ominous, like the marking of the start or end to something. It was unsettling and she took a quick gulp of her champagne, turning her attention from his gaze to the food in front of her.

They ate in silence for a while until she couldn't take it anymore. Dispelling the weight of not knowing what he was thinking was worth risking embarrassment over anything she might say. She shot him a quick glance. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you. I appreciate your concern. It was her time, but my Mother will be missed."

She looked up quickly at that. _Mother._ "Oh…your mother…I thought…"

He gave her a small, knowing smile. "You assumed."

"Yes." She looked down, spearing her last bite of salmon. She chewed thoughtfully, much too aware of his unwavering gaze. Setting her fork down, she reached for the champagne flute. "So…you're not married?"

"No."

She could hear the amusement in his voice, and she focused on sipping her champagne. She wasn't brave enough to look him in the eye, afraid of what she might see, of what he might see. Instead, she stood, collecting her plate. "Dessert?"

"Please."

Continuing to avoid his gaze, she added his plate to hers, and put them both in the sink. Retrieving two smaller plates from the cabinet, she cut generous slices of the shortcake. Silently, she made her way back to the table, setting one of the plates in front of Jareth before taking her seat with the other.

She listened to the clink of his fork against the china plate as she took a bite of her cake, hesitating a moment when he spoke. "Delicious."

"Thanks. I'm glad you like it." She couldn't help the small smile that tugged at her lips, delighted at his praise.

They ate silently for a few minutes longer before he spoke again. "Salmon, asparagus, honey, chocolate, strawberries, champagne – these are all considered aphrodisiacs, are they not?"

Sarah looked up at him quickly. "What? I mean….maybe; I don't know. Perhaps they are. I know salmon is really high in omega-3 fatty acids, which are good for mental function and cognition, and asparagus is considered an anti-carcinogen and is high in vitamins B and C. And I think berries and chocolate are high in antioxidants as well, and honey has all sorts of health benefits…"

"You're babbling."

"Am I?" Sarah set down her fork, folding her hands in her lap.

"Do I make you nervous?"

"No…yes. Yes, you do." She looked up at him. "I don't really know why you're here. I don't know what you're going to do."

"Don't you?" Jareth stood slowly, unfolding languidly from the chair. Sarah watched warily as he came around the table to stand in front of her. She turned unconsciously to face him as he placed one hand on the back of her chair, the other coming up to cup her cheek as he leaned down to eye level. "Such a fascinating woman. To give comfort to an enemy."

"What I'm going to do, Sarah, is what I should have done all those years ago." His thumb traced the line of her cheekbone and she swallowed, tears that she didn't understand stinging her eyes, threatening to overflow. "I'm going to kiss you." He leaned closer, his lips a breath away from her own. "Is that alright?"

Her lips parted slightly and she drew a ragged breath. "I…ah…" Words failed her so she simply nodded, unsure and overwhelmed, but completely captivated.

He smiled before pressing his lips softly to hers. He teased her with his mouth and she yielded, leaning in for more, practically melting when his tongue slid slowly over hers.

He tasted of strawberries and chocolate and champagne.

-o0O0o-

**_Author's Note:_**

_This one is a bit of shameless personal fantasy fulfillment. I really just wanted to see Jareth whip up something in the kitchen. A man that knows his way around a kitchen - that's sexy, right?_

_Thanks for reading! Please, leave a contribution in the little box. :)_


	10. Number 11: Memory

**Number 11: Memory**

Sarah had gone questing that afternoon, the quiet making her restless. She rocked slowly in the chair by the window, her rediscovered treasure held reverently in her lap. The colors seemed bright, almost cartoonish, in the shadowed neutrals of the room - happy. She flipped the pages slowly, pausing to examine each captured memory preserved on the pages of the photo album. She had dug it out from the depths of the hope chest currently resigned to the attic. The one she kept locked.

Hoggle, Ludo, Sir Didymus – they were all there peering back at her, preserved in time, smiling – well, mostly. The closest Hoggle ever got to a smile was a resigned grimace. Sarah smiled wistfully as her eyes flicked over each snapshot – her "private" 16th birthday party, the one she had in her room after the family festivities were over; the time they had helped her rehearse for her senior year play, complete with costumes and props; the pool party the summer after her first year of college when her dad, stepmom, and Toby had gone out of town to visit Karen's parents. She laughed softly as she scanned the pictures of her friends in the pool. Her favorite was the one where Sir Didymus was bobbing in Toby's superman floaties and Hoggle was sputtering from the wall of water Ludo had made when he had cannonballed into the pool.

Sarah flipped the page. The last set of photos was from that same summer, when they had ventured out to a carnival two towns over. They hadn't gone out in public often, only when she had an overwhelming itch for adventure. Although she was the only one that could see her trio of pals, getting Ludo anywhere was problematic. Sarah smiled as she remembered. Hoggle had taken most of the photos that night, and most of them were of his thumb, or out of focus, or of the ground or sky, or something else entirely unintended. But she loved them anyway, just because he had taken them.

She closed the album, her smile fading. It all seemed so long ago. Sometimes it felt like it hadn't happened at all, like a faraway dream. But the photos were proof.

Sarah looked up at the sound of thunder shaking the quiet stillness, the rain pattering softly on the window. Some memories, those relegated to the recesses of her often faulty recollection…were clear as crystal.

_You're no match for me Sarah._

She remembered how sacred she had been when she'd first seen him, dazzled but intimidated. In truth, she was more scared of what her dad and Karen were going to do to her if they came home to find Toby gone rather than anything he might have done. He had smiled at her, after all, which was more then either of them had made the effort to do. And he had offered her her dreams.

_It's farther than you think._

When he had leaned over her like that…she had jumped, she remembered. She had been surprised at how close he was behind her, and she had looked away when he lingered, suddenly just a little bit shy. It wouldn't be the last time he invaded her personal space. She had recognized it for what it was – an intimidation tactic, but…

_And you, Sarah. How are you enjoying my Labyrinth?_

This time, when he had leaned in close, he had smiled at her – a small, teasing smile as he searched her eyes. He had this voice – smooth, and strong, and bittersweet – like brandy. She had looked away again, flustered and unsure. And then, fantastically stupid girl that she was, she had insulted his Labyrinth. Sarah smiled a little as she remembered his reaction. He really was a rotten cheat when it suited him.

_Choosing a path between the stars…_

That dream! She had been too young then to really understand what was going on in that ballroom. She had a better understanding now, having been to a few wild parties since then, though none nearly so elegantly disguised. She remembered searching for him, and when she had found him he had looked at her with such intensity – it was a powerful feeling, to be the sole focus of his attention. She had been captivated when he had swept her into his arms, and breathless when his eyes slid down over her figure. And then he had begun to sing. The words of the song were burned into her memory like a brand.

She had even thought, at one point, just before the clock chimed and the masked faces closed in, that he was going to kiss her. And she had wanted him to.

_Everything I've done, I've done for you._

He had walked right through her. It felt like…like nothing she had ever felt before. Kind of like they had connected in some way, at some primal level. Even as she chased Toby over those stairs, she had listened to the words he sang. With that voice, how could she not? He had sounded so…sad. And had he really thought she was cruel?

_Just fear me, love me, do as I say…_

She had been so focused on remembering that last line that she hadn't understood then. She wasn't really sure if she understood now. The way he had practically pleaded with her at the end, his anger morphing into a sort of desperation. What she remembered most about those final moments was that haunted look in his eyes and wondering, when that bubble popped on her fingertips, what she had done.

And could it even be undone?

Sarah stared out the window, centuries of recycled tears falling from the puffy, ashen cheeks of the sky, soaking the world in a nostalgic sadness. She knew she had a selective memory where the Goblin King was concerned. And she knew romanticized him. Sometimes she wondered if her memories of him were somehow tainted by her fantasies, if she had, in all the time she had spent thinking about him, twisted it somehow, made it out to be something more.

A small whimper pulled her out of the past to the present. Sarah stood, walking over to the crib against the far wall to peer down at the baby fidgeting in her sudden unease. Sarah reached down to brush the soft wheat curls along her forehead, smiling when the little girl wrapped a fist around her pinky, while the tiny fingers of her other hand curled into her mouth as she drifted off to sleep again, comforted. Sarah stared down at her. Would this little girl have an adventure of her own one day? Would she meet a man who enchanted her so completely…

Would she make the same choices?

She jumped slightly at the sound of the front door, startled out of her thoughts.

"Sarah, I'm home!"

Sarah slid her finger free, leaning over to place a soft kiss on the little girl's head. She went back to the window, picking up the photo album from the chair and sliding it behind the books on the bottom row of the bookshelf. She crept out of the room, pulling the door to the frame, and slipped silently down the stairs.

Pausing at the base of the staircase, Sarah leaned against the wall, her gaze directed towards the kitchen. A man was putting away groceries, sliding on the linoleum in his socks, dancing to some song in his head; something he had probably heard on the radio on his way home. Bran. Her husband.

They had met in college, dating for a couple of years and marrying shortly after graduation. That was almost three years ago. Their daughter, Kaitlen, was 15 months.

She had gradually stopped calling on her friends as Bran became more dominant in her life, until she had stopped calling on them at all. She had drifted from the self-centeredness in her teenage years to a more mature awareness of self and how small she was in the world, to self-sacrifice as she became a wife and mother, her childhood tucked into a hope chest gathering dust in the attic and her dreams no longer for herself.

She had never seen Jareth again since that night in the Labyrinth – not brave enough to call on him to find out if it was memory or fantasy. Who was she, really? Some selfish girl who had wished away her little brother.

But sometimes…sometimes she couldn't help but wonder if he ever remembered her. And sometimes she could feel those long buried dreams, hear their soft neglected cries in the back of her consciousness. And it hurt so much to think that they were dying, suffocated by reality and responsibility. That maybe she was dying just a little bit, too.

Sarah studied her husband – his brown floppy hair, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes from his ready smile. Bran was a good man. And she loved him.

She did.

Bran looked up as if sensing her presence. He smiled when he met her eyes. "Hey, beautiful. I didn't hear you come down." He nodded at the brown paper bag on the kitchen counter. "Got your favorite."

_But…_

"Hey." Sarah slid from the wall, tucking her hands into the back pockets of her jeans as she slinked into the kitchen. "Kaitlen's sleeping." She peered over into the bag - peaches. She took one out, washing it at the sink before taking a bite. She leaned back against the kitchen island as she chewed.

Bran came over to stand in front of her, placing his hands on either side of her waist and kissing her softly. "Mmm." Sarah smiled at him even as her eyes drifted to the window over his shoulder where the rain continued to fall, soaking into the earth, the melancholy lying just under the surface floating up through the everyday grit. Bran nuzzled her hair, whispering into her ear. "And you smell sweet, too."

Lightening flashed and her hand, hanging limply at her side, flexed over the soft fruit.

They never tasted like she remembered.

-o0O0o-

**_Author's Note:_**

_It's raining in my world today._

_Thanks for reading! Please, leave a contribution in the little box. :)_


	11. Number 18: Rainbow

**Number 18: Rainbow**

"Come on, Sarah. They're magically delicious."

Sarah glanced over at Toby, one eyebrow raised as he shook the box of Lucky Charms and grinned at her in that mischievously charming way that only little boys could.

"You know how your mom feels about that. You're only allowed to have sugary cereals on Saturdays."

Sarah jumped suddenly, her train of thought derailed as she felt a hand slide over her backside, feather-light wisps of hair teasing the side of her face. "Know what else is magically delicious?" He was warm against her back, effectively blocking his wandering hand from little prying eyes as his lips whispered along her ear.

Sarah stepped back into him, pushing him back and away. "Don't you even start." Jareth chuckled softly and Sarah tried not to smile as she brought the jug of milk to the kitchen table where Toby was already climbing into one of the large wooden chairs, cereal bowl and spoon in hand.

Not deterred in the slightest, Jareth followed her, wrapping his arms around her from behind as she leaned over the table. "What? No good morning kiss?"

Sarah turned to pacify him with a quick peck, but he tightened his grip when she began to move away, pulling her close for a proper kiss.

"Gross."

Jareth looked over at their unimpressed commentator, pulling Sarah back against him when she tried to escape again, resting his chin on the top of her head with an amused smirk. "And how are you this morning, young Master Tobias?"

"Heya, Jareth." Toby spared him only a quick glance before sucker punching Sarah with his best puppy dog eyes. "Please, Sarah? I'll be your best friend."

Toby already had the cereal box open and held precariously over his empty bowl. The few sugary bits that had already escaped pinged triumphantly against the glass. Sarah smiled through her sigh. "Fine. But not a peep to your mom. If I get in trouble, I'm taking you down with me." Toby's victorious 'Yes!' was nearly drowned out by the rapid tumble of cereal.

Resigned that Sarah was not going to be kept still as she wiggled her way free, Jareth moved to sit next to Toby at the table. As she fixed her own bowl of much more sensible Wheaties with sliced bananas, Sarah snuck glances at the two as they were rather curiously engrossed in the ill-gained bowl of cereal. Toby could barely get a mouthful down for giggling.

Plopping a spoon into her own cereal bowl, Sarah wandered their way to peep over Toby's shoulder. "You didn't seriously change the marshmallows, did you?"

Jareth was saved from answering as Toby piped up excitedly, waxing poetic about the rainbow of goblin-shaped marshmallows, sugary caricatures of the Goblin King's troublesome subjects, some of which she recognized. Scattered among the grotesquely cute characters were a few black marshmallow chickens.

"Black is not a color of the rainbow," Sarah pointed out unnecessarily as she slid into a seat across from them, tucking her own cereal bowl close to her on the table.

Jareth simply grinned back at her. "Artistic license."

Sarah rolled her eyes and turned her attention to her breakfast. When the giggling continued, she looked up, pointing her spoon at the amused monarch across from her. "You know, there are probably more worthwhile uses for your magic – like ending hunger, or world peace, or…fixing my car…" Sarah's voice trailed off as her gaze flicked to Toby. She sighed. "Tobes, don't drink from the bowl. You're going to spill all over your shirt."

Toby dropped the bowl with a clatter and a grin. "Too late. All done." Sliding off the seat he stuck his hip out in a saucy pose before barreling into the living room to catch the exciting conclusion of this week's episode of He-man.

"Five minutes, Toby! Then we have to leave for camp!" Sarah called after him.

Taking one last bite of her breakfast, she rose to pluck both bowls off the table and set them in the sink. When she turned around, she nearly ran into Jareth. "What are you…"

He closed the distance between them, backing her up against the counter and placing one hand on the cabinet behind her head as he leaned in, "Want to look for the pot of gold?"

A smile tugged at her lips as she looked up at him. "Does everything have to be an innuendo with you?"

She felt his answering smile as his lips brushed against hers and he whispered, "Red." He pulled back slightly to allow his gaze to follow the trail his fingers had begun down the column of her throat, "Orange…"

"I'm not orange…peach maybe, but not orange."

He smiled, amused, but didn't look up. "Close enough." His eyes continued to follow the path of his fingers as they slid over her yellow t-shirt, down between her breasts. "Yellow." She flinched and sucked in a breath when his nails grazed across her stomach. He paused at her reaction, his mis-matched eyes flicking up to meet her hooded green ones. He tilted his head and his smile grew wider, predatory. "Green." He held her gaze as his hand traced further down to tease along the top of her jeans. "And blue." Slipping his fingers beneath the waistband, he tugged, yanking her against him. His breath danced along her skin as he whispered in her ear. "What color do you have under here, I wonder?"

Sarah stifled whimper as his teeth grazed the sensitive skin of her throat, pushing back from him as she ducked under his arm. "Stop it."

Making a beeline for the living room, she paused and glanced over her shoulder when she heard him laugh. Jareth was leaning smugly against the kitchen counter, arms crossed over his chest, looking much too pleased with himself. But…_ damn, he was sexy._ She offered him a small smile and said quietly, "Later."

He gazed at her hungrily for a moment before sauntering over to press his mouth against hers in a soft kiss. "I'm going to hold you to that." He smirked dangerously. "What's said is said."

She smiled up at him before turning away to resume her Toby-collecting mission, but jumped when she felt a sharp slap against her backside. She glared at him over her shoulder.

"Wear purple." He grinned back at her before fading with a wink.

Sarah brushed at the glittery hand-print on the back of her jeans. _Stupid, possessive, infuriating… incredibly sexy…_

It was just like him to get her all hot and bothered when she had to spend the day chasing 6-year-olds around. Sarah sighed, poking her head into the living room to find Toby sprawled out on the floor in front of the TV. "Come on, kiddo. Time to go." Toby glanced back at her briefly before looking back at the TV, apparently unmoved. She put a little steel behind her second request. "Now."

"Ok, ok." Toby popped up, suddenly a ball of energy as he dashed into the kitchen to grab his backpack.

Sarah turned off the TV as Toby put on his shoes, and after a couple of harried delays, one to find his favorite baseball hat, and the second to wash the crusted milk off his face, they made it out of the house and into the car with just enough time to spare.

"Seatbelt, Tobes."

"I know." After obediently buckling his seatbelt, Toby fished a book out of his backpack, sinking into the seat with a small sigh.

Sarah smiled at him affectionately, ruffling his hair, before sliding the key into the ignition. The car came to life with soft, strong purr, just like the first day she bought it. She smiled as she put the car into reverse. She was sure she had something lacy and purple in her lingerie drawer somewhere…

-o0O0o-

**_Author's Note:_**

_Yeah...so I didn't really know what to do for this one. And I've never written Toby before, so that was a bit daunting. :/ At least it's not sad. _

_Thanks for reading! Please, leave a contribution in the little box. :)_


	12. Number 4: Dark

**Number 4: Dark**

She felt . . . oddly dissatisfied. Without any real reason for it at all.

She had a good life. She had a loving family, a respectable job that she didn't dislike, but work was still work, and she had her fair share of friends, people she could count on and that she cared about. She even had the occasional boyfriend, the kind that charmed her parents, and did nice things for her; the kind that asked first before they kissed her. It was all very . . . good.

Sarah sighed as she pulled back the covers on her bed and adjusted her pillow.

It was her birthday; she was 23 today. She had spent the night out with her dad, stepmom, and her little brother Toby. They had gone out to eat at her favorite restaurant and then later back to their house for cake and presents. It had been fun. She should be happy.

But it was always the same; when the world grew dark and quiet, and she was alone with her thoughts…this nagging feeling that something was missing.

Her gaze slid to the statuette standing silently on her bookshelf-the Goblin King. She had put many of her childhood toys away over the years, but never that-never that place, never him. It was nearly eight years ago that she had run his Labyrinth. She had never felt so alive as she had then. It was exhilarating-the challenge, the adventure, the danger . . . and it had been frightening.

She flicked off the lamp on her bedside table, her bedroom now dark but for the faint glow from the nightlight plugged into the wall near her vanity. She walked toward it, padding over the carpet in her bare feet and plopped into the chair in front of the mirror. She quirked her lips as she looked at the glowing plastic fairy. This particular nightlight had been a gift from Toby last year. It hadn't been her first, but it was her favorite. She always kept a light on at night, ever since…ironic that a fairy was protecting her from the ghosts and goblins, the shadows that skittered and shied away from the light, the whispers that she was almost sure that she imagined. Fairies bite.

Picking up her brush, Sarah appraised her reflection as she worked the knots from her hair. She hadn't changed much from her fifteen-year-old self. Her face was slightly thinner and sharper, and her hair was still long. But her eyes were sad. She looked resigned and complacent, her nighttime ponderings showing plainly on her face. She wondered that no one else ever noticed. Setting the brush back on the table, she rubbed her hands over her face. Maybe she was just tired.

She started slightly when she heard a soft ping, dropping her hands from her face slowly. The room had gone completely dark, the happily glowing fairy now only a faint gray outline in the blackness. The bulb had burned out.

_Damn._ Her heart rate speed up and she fumbled in the vanity drawer to find the packet of spare bulbs. Shadows seemed to draw close, blocking out the moonlight from the window and she suddenly felt claustrophobic. _Where were those damn bulbs!_

When she heard a whisper close to her ear she froze. "Hello, Sarah."

Her heartbeat thudded in her ears and her chest tightened in panic. She whipped her head around to seek the owner of the voice, but there was only darkness. She was alone. But she swore she just heard. . .

"Did you enjoy your day?"

Again, the voice was low and smooth against her ear and she could almost feel a breath against her skin. Her eyes had begun to adjust to the darkness and she searched the room frantically, her knuckles clenched white against the back of her chair. There was no one.

She turned back toward the vanity, reaching again for the open drawer, her eyes still scanning the room warily. _Was she just imagining it, just like all the murmurs and unintelligible whispers that always seemed just out of hearing, just out of range of the light?_ No-this was different. This was . . .

She bolted upright as she caught a flicker of movement in the mirror in front of her. She stared with wide panicked eyes as color and form materialized from the shadows behind her into the familiar face and figure of the Goblin King. His hair was white-blonde in the moonlight, wild, and his skin shone with a pale radiance from the black of his clothing. The shadows rippled in his wake as he moved to stand behind her, not quite willing to let him go. A smirk pulled at the corners of his mouth until his pointed teeth flashed like a warning.

She stared back at him dumbly, her lips trying to form thoughts into words. _This was not happening._ Regaining some sense of self-preservation, she looked quickly behind her only to find the room empty. She looked back at the mirror and met his eyes. She swallowed. "What are you doing here?"

He gave her a slow once over. She scooted further back in her chair, feeling vulnerable in her thin nightgown under his scrutiny. When his eyes found hers again, he tilted his head, his smile growing softer and somehow more dangerous. "I've brought you a gift."

Again, the voice sounded as if it were right behind her. She watched as his hands slid down over her arms in the mirror. She knew she was alone in her room but she could feel the movement across her skin, the shadows seeming to glide and grow denser as he moved. He leaned down over her reflection, his hands sliding to her waist, his black gloved fingers splaying wide across her stomach. She could even feel the warmth of him behind her and she fought the urge to lean into it to ease the prickling goose bumps his touch had raised along her flesh. She jumped at the feel of his breath against her ear as he whispered. "Do you want it?"

!

CENSORED

!

-o0O0o-

_**Author's Note:**_

_Doesn't that word make you angry? It makes me angry. Anywho, __the second half of this little story has been removed as a precaution. The story drifts into the "mature" category, and I'd rather not have any issues with the site regarding the rules. The entire story can be read here (just remove the spaces): undergrounddaydreams . deviantart / art / Dark-18562000_

_Sorry for the inconvenience!_


	13. Number 5: Seeking Solace

**Number 5: Seeking Solace**

The pub was small and lantern lit. There were no pictures on the wall, just brick, and old wood, and quiet conversations lost and muffled in a fog of smoke, the scent of black grass heavy in the air. And there was no live music, no dancing – you had to go to the pub in the Goblin City for that. This wasn't a place people came to when they wanted a good time. This was a place to forget, a place to be numb. It was a place to think and wallow in self-pity and talk about things close to your heart. While getting very, very drunk.

Hoggle was slumped on a stool at the bar in his favorite after-work pub, his craggy, dwarfen features pulled into a grimace. He had put in a long day in the gardens at the entrance to the Labyrinth. His bum leg was hurting him and he was dead-on-his-feet tired. The bartender, a gruff goblin-dwarf hybrid of sorts, approached him, nodding at the new bauble around his wrist. "Plastic, eh? You could get a pretty penny for that one. I'd be willing to…"

Hoggle tucked the bracelet further up his arm under his sleeve. "Not fer sale."

The bartender shrugged, stepping back to grab a mug from beneath the counter. "The usual, then?"

Hoggle grunted his assent as he propped his head in his hand, his other fiddling with the bracelet now hidden beneath the rough material of his shirt. Perhaps it was a little bit of self-preservation that he had worked so hard today. He had yet to run across Jareth since all that had happened the day before. He thought, maybe, with a little bit of luck, that if he kept his head down and threw himself into his work…he just might be forgotten.

The bartender left him alone after placing a mug of goblin ale in front of him, refilling it twice as Hoggle sat quietly replaying the events of the previous day in his head. The details became hazier as the alcohol took its toll, but one thing was clear – he had a friend. Sarah.

After finishing his third drink, Hoggle slid off the stool, limping to the back of the pub, past the booths lining the rear wall and through the tunnel-like halls to answer nature's call. On his way back out to the bar, he noticed a figure in the booth nearest him - a shock of wild blond hair. He froze as he realized who it was. The figure underneath the unruly mop was slumped back into the booth, sitting longways on the wooden bench, one leg propped up with his arm dangling over his knee. He head was down.

_Damn his rotten luck!_ He had never seen Jareth in here before, which was why he preferred it. Why tonight, of all nights? Holding his breath, Hoggle began a slow walk past the booth, looking down and away, fully intending to slink on by and hightail it out of there as fast as he could.

Unfortunately, that was not going to happen. Hoggle stopped abruptly, his eyes growing wide as a riding crop came down hard and swift in front of him, cracking loudly against the table to his right as it blocked his path.

Hoggle swallowed and slowly turned his head to meet the cool gaze of the Goblin King. "Hello, Higgle. Fancy meeting you here."

"Ah, er…yer majesty." Hoggle bobbed his head, looking frantically around for another avenue of escape. "Just, ya know, ah…having a drink or two after a long day workin'…"

Jareth withdrew the riding crop barring the way, curling his elbow around his knee. "Naturally." He affected a look of concern as he leaned closer. "You must be exhausted. Especially after your festivities last night."

So he knew about the party at Sarah's house last night. Hoggle swallowed again, fidgeting. Of course, he knew. He always knew. "Ah…"

A chair slid out roughly from under the table, the legs scraping against the stone tiles. "Have a seat, Hogwart."

Hoggle turned a little sideways, facing the Goblin King as he slowly shuffled past the booth in baby steps. Jareth tracked his movements. "Well, ya know, I was already sittin' at the bar, so I'll just find my way back and get out yer hair…"

Jareth flashed a snide smile and leaned forward to look Hoggle in the eye. "You're not really going to stand there and refuse my hospitality, are you? Not after all we've been through?" His smile faded. "Sit."

Hoggle stumbled backwards into the table behind him, wincing from the force in the command. Regaining his balance, he met the not amused gaze of the man in front of him, momentarily paralyzed in panic. After a tense moment in which they each took measure of the other, Hoggle drew in a long breath, steeling himself, before climbing up into the chair. With a wave of Jareth's hand, the mug Hoggle had been nursing at the bar was now in front of him, full. Hoggle wrapped his hands around it, sighing dejectedly. "I ain't going to help ya to hurt her or nothin', so you can forget it, if that's what yer gonna ask. I don't care what you do to me."

"Is that so? Since when did you become the hero?"

"I ain't no hero. I jus' won't do nothin' to harm her is all."

Jareth tapped a finger against his lips as if considering. "I wonder what could inspire such loyalty in a selfish, _traitorous_, little scrub like you?" He lowered his hand and slid him a sideways glance. "Oh, that's right. I remember - she's your _friend_." He hissed the last word on a sneer.

Hoggle sucked in a breath, puffing out his chest. "That's right! She is my friend, and if you so much as harm a hair on her head, I'll, I'll…"

"You'll what, exactly?" They glared at each other from opposite sides of the table for a long moment, Hoggle shaking with ragged angry breaths, and Jareth's eyes slitted and cold as he leaned threateningly across the table. Ultimately, Jareth was the first to relent, a snide smile curling his lips as he leaned backward against the wall. "So much trouble over a slip of a girl…"

Hoggle wasn't quite willing to let it go. "Don't talk about her. She's not…"

Jareth spared him a quick dismissive glance. "Calm down, Hoghead, before you get yourself hurt." He continued with a hint of faintly amused warning. "That chair's looking unsteady." Too illustrate this point, the chair wobbled ominously and Hoggle gripped the sides to keep from tipping over.

"I won't calm down, not if…"

Jareth sighed and waved his hand half-heartedly to shush him. "I have no intention of harming Sarah."

Hoggle stared at him a moment, blinking uncomprehendingly. "Uh…ya don't?"

"No."

"Um…I guess that's ok then." Hoggle settled back in his chair, eyeing him warily as Jareth poured a shot of what appeared to be whisky and downed it in a gulp. The bottle was already half empty.

"Trying to forget the girl, eh?" Hoggle looked up from his mug to see the old man with the crazy hat that he and Sarah had come across in the hedge maze. Jareth slid his eyes up to the bird-hat that had spoken before pouring himself another shot without answering.

"Ah…your majesty. Lovely to see you again. It's been too long." The wiseman sidled closer to the table and Jareth nodded his head in acknowledgment, throwing back the shot he had just poured.

The hat looked from the glass to Jareth, and then down at the old man beneath him. "He's drunk."

The wiseman nodded his head, the bird perched on top bobbing along with the movement. "Ah, yes. To drink the waters of Lethe is to drink the waters of forgetfulness – to obliterate perceived hurts from one's consciousness, to…"

"Aye, me. Will you listen to this rubbish?"

He glared up at his hat through his bushy eyebrows, the rest of his sentence ground out from between clenched teeth. "….to forget what is too painful to remember."

The hat looked disinterestedly out over the bar. "I wish I could forget this conversation."

The wiseman rolled his eyes and looked back at Jareth. "But…with the memory goes our wisdom, or knowledge, that which brings us understanding and enlightenment…"

"Woo-woo-woo! Check out that hot little number!" The hat had spied a pretty elfish girl sitting alone at the bar and had started bouncing in his excitement.

Grabbing the earflaps of the hat, the wiseman pinned it to his head with a downward tug. "Will you please desist!"

Finding his movements arrested, the hat strained against the downward force, stretching his neck upwards one way and then the other, with no noticeable effect except that he appeared to be swaying to some tune only he could hear. Finally realizing the futility of the struggle, he stopped, slumping downwards with a click of his beak. "Ah, nuts." He hung his head dejectedly, with a long-suffering sigh. "I need a drink."

Seeing that his hat had sufficiently composed himself, the wiseman looked over his shoulder at the girl in question, his eyebrows rising. Turning back to the booth, he patted the Goblin King consolingly and quickly on the knee. "The way forward is sometimes the way back."

Hoggle watched as the wiseman wandered over to the bar, sitting next to the young elf. "Well, hello there, young lady..."

The hat chimed in with an excited bounce. "Hey, pretty lady!"

Hoggle snorted. "Psh. I don't think he even knows what that means."

Jareth barked out a laugh. "Perhaps not." He swished his riding crop through the air once before bringing it in and flexing it with both hands. "But then again…"

They both watched as the bartender set a mug of ale in front of the old man, the girl laughing at whatever he had just said. The hat looked down at the mug, and then back up at the bartender. "And a straw."

Hoggle rolled his eyes, taking a swig from his own mug. They sat silently for a while, Jareth staring moodily down at his boot, thrumming out a staccato beat with the riding crop. Hoggle braved a glance at him. Jareth didn't seem angry; in fact, he looked like Hoggle felt yesterday when he thought Sarah would never forgive him. He felt a tug of understanding, against his better judgment.

"Ah…yer majesty?" Hoggle scratched his head, looking back down in his mug. "For what it's worth…she asked about you."

Jareth lifted his head slowly to look straight ahead. "Did she?" The question was flat, almost as if he didn't expect an answer or care for one at all.

Hoggle snuck another glance up at him to find his expression blank and faraway. "Ah, yeah…she asked if you were gonna be ok."

Jareth laughed then; it was a cold, weary sound. "She breaks my world and then asks if I'm going to be 'ok'."

Hoggle didn't answer and Jareth was quiet for a few minutes before looking his way, twirling the empty shot glass in idle spirals on the table. "Did she say anything else…about me?"

Hoggle narrowed his eyes; his empathy only stretched so far. This was still Jareth. "No." Even if she had it's not like he would tell _him_.

Jareth nodded his head, looking back across the bar. "Well, Hoggle, thank you for the company." He stood, and Hoggle watched him as he starting to walk toward the exit. He didn't get far before he paused and spoke without turning around. "Oh, and Hoggle. As a reward for your service and…_loyalty_ to the crown, I'm giving you a promotion."

"You are?"

"Yes. I need someone to oversee a new construction project. It was brought to my attention earlier today that there's a bridge that needs rebuilding. You start tomorrow morning." He began to walk again. "No doubt you'll see at least two familiar faces."

Hoggle sighed. "Yes, yer majesty." He looked back down at his mug as the door closed behind the Goblin King. Well, it could have been worse. A lot worse. Maybe if he got drunk enough he wouldn't notice the smell…

Or perhaps not. Hoggle pushed his mug aside. He didn't want to be so drunk he accidently stumbled into the bog. Scooting out of the booth, he hobbled over to the bar to pay his tab. The bartender shook his head as Hoggle approached. "Taken care of."

Hoggle's eyebrows shot up. "Oh…alright then." He started toward the door, pausing when the bartender spoke again.

"Since when did you start having heart-to-hearts with 'is majesty?"

"I wasn't! I'm not! I…" Hoggle stopped his adamant protest suddenly, his shoulders sagging as he waved at the bartender dismissively. "Ah, whatever. See you tomorrow night."

Stepping out into the night air, Hoggle looked toward the castle and could just make out the shadow of an owl midflight. He heaved a sigh before beginning the short trek back to his cottage, his expression thoughtful as he rubbed absently at the plastic circlet around his wrist. He shook his head, a little bewildered. Even cowards and villains needed a friend sometimes, he supposed, whether they deserved it or not.

-o0O0o-

**_Author's Note:_**

_Inspired by the scene in the early version of the Labyrinth script where Hoggle is drowning his sorrows in a tavern after giving Sarah the peach. I borrowed and tweaked a couple of the wiseman's lines. The early script - it's pretty bad. Read it at your own risk. There's a link to it in the J/DB Harem Group if you're feeling brave._

_Thanks for reading! Please, leave a contribution in the little box. :) Constructive criticism is always appreciated._


	14. Number 90: Triangle

**Number 90: Triangle**

Sarah walked in the front door to the sound of Toby giggling in the kitchen. Dumping her bag on the sofa, she headed toward the sound, the giggling growing louder as she approached. "Hey, Tobes. How was…" Sarah stopped abruptly in the doorway spotting the Goblin King sitting at the table with her little brother. Her fledgling smile faded and her eyes narrowed. "Oh, it's you." She turned around to walk back out the way she had come.

"Hey, Sarah, wait!" Toby called out, leaning forward on the table to peek down the hall after her. "Look what I made at school today!"

Sighing, Sarah reluctantly turned around, deciding that if she had to go back in the kitchen, she might as well make herself a snack. Sarah skirted over to the far side of the table to look over Toby's shoulder. She could feel the Goblin King watching her, his gaze intrusive and commanding, beckoning. She didn't look up. "Whatcha got?"

Toby held up the folded paper contraption perched on his fingers. "It's a game to tell your fortune. Wanna play?"

Sarah raised a brow. "So this is what you spend your time at school doing? No wonder your report card sucked."

"Whatever. Just pick a number."

Sarah moved to the kitchen counter, pulling the bread out of its box. "123."

"Sarah, don't be stupid. I'm not mushing this thing around 123 times."

Sarah glanced at her little brother as she reached for the peanut butter in the cabinet, slightly amused at his annoyance. "What do I need to pick a number for?"

He gave her a look that clearly said that he thought she was dumber than dirt. "That's how many times you mush it, and then you pick another number, and then you read your fortune under one of the diamonds."

Sarah looked down, her attention focused on slathering peanut butter on a slice of bread. "Triangle."

"What?"

"It's a triangle." Abandoning her preparations, Sarah walked back over to point over Toby's shoulder. "See, you've got the fortune written on the bottom of the diamond, so it's a triangle."

"No, 'cause see, when you unfold it it's a diamond."

"No, I'm right. It's a triangle. It's even like your Magic 8 ball. If you had written the fortune on the whole thing, it'd be a diamond, but you didn't, so…triangle."

Toby stared at her blankly for a moment before grumbling, "Whatever. Who cares. You're a triangle…sharp, and pointy, and mean."

Sarah was slightly taken aback. "What? Toby! I'm not mean…or pointy."

"You totally are." Toby looked over at Jareth, who was laughing. "And I don't know why you're laughing. You're a triangle, too."

Jareth's laughter stopped abruptly, and he quirked a questioning brow. "What?"

"You're both good for nothin' triangles, always butting your pointy heads together. You could be a diamond," he raised his paper fortune teller pointedly, "and have a future, if you put your..." Toby erupted into uncontrollable giggles. "…bottoms…together..." The last bit was choked out between gasps for breath as he continued to giggle, almost falling out of his chair.

Sarah came to stand next to the incapacitated, and highly amused, boy at the table, leaning forward on her hands. "Toby. Did you just imply what I think you just implied?" Toby didn't look up, his laughter rendering him incapable of anything more than trying to maintain his seat. Sarah slid into the chair next to him. "You did, didn't you?" When he looked up, his eyes watering as his laughter devolved into to choked sobs, she poked him roughly in the chest. "You're eight! How do you even know about that? What kind of kids are you hanging…" Her gaze slid accusingly to the monarch across the table from her barely containing his own laughter. "This is your fault!"

Jareth smiled innocently at her. "Well, I do recall a particular afternoon of late and a nature show, lions or tigers or some such. He asked and I told him…"

"I don't even want to know what you told him!" She turned back to Toby. "Don't listen to anything he says, Toby."

"Sarah, be reasonable. I think Toby made a valid point."

"You would, you poofy-headed perv. I don't care what you think. I don't like you."

Toby wiped the tears from his eyes, still grinning. "Psh. Liar. Remember that time when you said…"

"Toby, if you say another word, I swear to God I will tell your mom why all her bras are stretched out."

"I think I'd like to hear this story. What was it she said, Toby?" Despite addressing her little brother, Jareth was looking intently at Sarah.

Sarah narrowed her eyes at the Goblin King, his mocking, amused tone making her hackles rise. "You," she pointed a silencing finger at him, "shut up."

Toby snorted. "See what I mean? Triangles and your stupid pointy heads." He slid from his chair, muttering as he headed toward the back door. "I'm going to go ride my bike. Stupid triangles…"

Sarah stared after him dumbly, stunned by his blatant dismissal. After a moment, she remembered where she was and what she was doing. Heading back to the counter to finish making her peanut butter and jelly sandwich, she pointedly ignored the Goblin King in a dismissive gesture of her own. When she had finished, and he had still not left, evidenced by the not-quite-of-this-world tingle to the atmosphere, she sighed, determinedly not looking at him as she clutched her snack tightly in her hand. "Toby's gone, so you can leave now."

"Come on, Sarah. Make a diamond with me."

At some point, he had moved to stand behind her, his voice smooth and teasing too close to her ear. She spun to face him, claws bared for round two. "I'm not making anything with you," she spat. "And I don't really think I'm a triangle, anyway."

He smiled charmingly. "If I'm a triangle, you're a triangle."

Sarah glared at him. "We are _not_ the same. If I _am_ a triangle, which is highly debatable, you're like a circle or something, and if I do anything with you I'll probably fall right through into an oubliette or the bog or…something. Whatever it is, it would be bad."

She stared at him a moment before speaking again. "This is the stupidest conversation I've had today, and that's saying something since your meddling goblins were mucking about in my closet at 6am this morning." She shook her head, exasperated, making to move past him. "I don't even know why we're still talking about this."

"I don't either." Too quick to anticipate his movement and counter, his hand snaked out to grasp her arm, halting her retreat as he pulled her back in front of him. Before she could utter so much as a peep of protest, his lips were pressed against hers, effectively silencing her.

Too stunned at first to do anything but stand there, any coherent thought processes rapidly melted under the gentle coaxing of his lips moving soft and warm against hers. She responded, leaning into him, letting him lead her, any judgment or reservations she might have had gone in a heartbeat. She'd be a big fat liar if she said she'd never thought of kissing him before, but the reality was so much more than anything she'd ever imagined. Too soon, he pulled away. She just managed to stifle a whimper of protest, not yet willing to give up the moment, to have to think about what she had just been doing and with whom.

Opening her eyes reluctantly, she stared up at him, bewildered and a little breathless. "What did you do that for?"

Jareth smiled slowly as his thumb traced the swollen outline of her lips and his other hand slipped the sandwich from her loosened grasp. "Declaring my intentions." Sauntering a few steps backward he took a bite of the stolen snack and winked. "And food for thought."

Conjuring a crystal, he tossed it to her. "For when you change your mind." And then he was gone…with the rest of her sandwich.

Reflexively, Sarah caught the crystal, too caught up in the jumble of emotions clambering for dominance to contemplate any potential consequences of such an action. Slumping into a nearby chair, she looked down at the glittering object in her hand. She thought, for just a moment, that it looked just like a diamond.

-o0O0o-

**_Author's Note:_**

_So...kind of silly and kind of stupid, but, you know, whatever. This theme was incredibly difficult for me. I actually had another idea, but it was so darn depressing and I didn't feel like posting something sad, so you got this ridiculousness. It's a bit of a stretch, theme-wise, but it's what I've got. The other, depressing one had to do with the holy trinity, so probably would have been an interesting exploration for the theme, but, like I said, too, too depressing for today. Perhaps I'll have the opportunity to use it for another theme further on down the road. There are still 86 more to go..._

_Thanks for reading! Please, leave a contribution in the little box. :) Constructive criticism is always appreciated._


	15. Number 99: Solitude

**Number 99 – Solitude**

Sarah stepped though the break in the garden wall, pushing the branches aside. It was her secret spot – a small clearing surrounded by trees on cliff overlooking the west side of the Labyrinth. The first time she had found it, she had lain out in the grass, staring up through the woven canopy at the hazy sky. When she had sought it out a second time, she had found a bench placed in the middle of the clearing, set off a safe distance from the edge but close enough that all that she needed to escape from was well out of her peripheral vision. It was just the sky, the trees, and her thoughts. From then on, she used the bench. She had a good idea whom it was from, though she never mentioned it.

She sank down with a sigh, slipping off her shoes and tucking her feet under her skirt. She welcomed the solitude, the commotion of the castle building to a roar in her head. She had always been one to need a lot of alone time to collect her thoughts and reconnect with herself - time to reflect and dream. Sarah sunk into herself as the cheerful, busy chittering of the birds and the rustle of the leaves lulled her. The wind was warm against her face, and it smelled like green and magic.

She had just reached that quiet place in her mind, the place where reality becomes a dream, when the brush of lips against the side of her neck, brought her back to the present. She smiled and looked over her shoulder. "How did you find me?"

"You carry my heart, love." Jareth moved to sit beside her on the bench, taking her hand as he looked out over the Labyrinth. "And you always come here when you're trying to escape."

"Have you been spying on me?" She narrowed her eyes. "I know you have."

He smiled slowly, his fingers tracing designs on her palm as he continued to look out into the distance. "It's a hard habit to break. I have the need to play the villain from time to time, and I find voyeurism to be an excellent vice, particularly where you're concerned."

Sarah laughed and leaned forward to rest her head on his shoulder. "How can you stand," she waved vaguely in the direction of the castle, "all of that, all of the time? You never seem to need to escape or run away."

"You would think, given the constant idiotic carrying on of our subjects, that any opportunity to escape would be welcome. However, I found, left alone with myself, that I'm not very good company. For one who's spent an eternity granting wishes and weaving dreams, with all of his own unfulfilled…," he paused a moment before continuing in a softer tone, "…giving wings to those thoughts was no comfort. I'd grown to prefer the noise to the solitude." He turned to look at her. "But I'm not interrupting yours?"

Sarah lifted her head, placing her chin on his shoulder as she studied him. _You must have been so lonely._ She reached out, cradling his face in her hands. _And so proud._ She kissed him lightly before meeting his gaze again. "Never. Solitude doesn't have to mean being alone."

She lay down, resting her head in his lap as she smiled up at him. "You're always welcome, except when I'm mad at you."

"Ah." A devilish smile curved his lips. "All the more reason not to give up my voyeuristic tendencies." He leaned over briefly to whisper against her ear, nipping at the lobe. "You're enchanting when you're angry."

Sarah laughed, pushing him away. He smiled in return, bringing her hand to his lips, while his other slipped through her hair. Her laughter faded into a sigh and she closed her eyes, relishing in the familiar, comforting gesture as he idly toyed with her hair. Turning her head, she opened her eyes to the horizon, painted lazily in lilac and persimmon, content to be quiet. They stayed that way until the sun set - each in solitude, together forever.

-o0O0o-

**_Author's Note:_**

_Just a little slice of life - short and sweet. Nothing much came to mind for this particular theme, but I'm a bit more invested in the next theme in the queue - something a little darker, though only slightly dark. I'm on a dark Jareth kick at the moment and that's where I want to play. ;)_

_Thanks for reading! Please, leave a contribution in the little box. :) Constructive criticism is always welcome._


	16. Number 1: Introduction

_**Author's Note:**_

_This is not the "darker" story I mentioned in the last chapter. I'm still working on that one, but got sidetracked. I usually have 2 or 3 themes going at once. This one is AU, or in other words, an alternate introduction - if Sarah hadn't had that book, hadn't said those words. This is their first introduction, under different circumstances._

_Enjoy!_

-o0O0o-

**Number 1: Introduction**

Sarah swiped a glass of champagne from a passing tray as she ducked through the crowd. She had had enough of her mother's simpering theatrics to last the entire summer.

Linda Williams, B-list stage actress who once upon a time played the role of her mother until something better had come along. She was so full of herself that she was completely blind to her mediocrity. They all were. All of her mother's "friends" were cardboard cutouts, like paper dolls to entertain the masses in their pretty costumes with their made-up speeches. Did they even know how to be real people?

She doubted it. Sarah took a long swig from the champagne flute, coughing as the effervescence exploded in her throat, the force making her eyes water. It was much stronger than she had expected. She took another swallow as she headed toward the buffet table, and away from her mother.

It was only day three of her forced summer vacation in sunny Santa Carla, California. She didn't know what would be worse, spending the summer with her mother, or spending it babysitting Toby as her dad and stepmother gallivanted across London. As it turned out, they didn't give her much of a choice, mostly her stepmother's doing, she imagined. When her dad's firm had offered him an overseas assignment for the summer, Karen all too casually mentioned what a fantastic opportunity it would be for Sarah to visit her mother.

Sarah downed the last of the champagne in her glass. _So fantastic. _Admittedly, it probably was better than babysitting Toby, though not by much. Not that she had anything against the little squirt. It wasn't his fault his parents were ladder-climbing narcissists. She felt kind of bad for him. He was such a happy little kid, but she knew they'd twist and pull and poke at him until he was their idea of the perfect son. At least, as the constant reminder of a failed marriage and a previous lover, they left her alone.

And so here she was. Sarah scanned the room stoically, her eyes skipping over the sea of faces. While all of her friends from high school were enjoying their last summer before heading off to college, she was at some bizarre summer solstice masquerade party with what looked like nearly all of those in the local theatre circuit in attendance. They were all dressed in various period costumes, most likely quietly kept after a final performance, or swiped from the costume department of their respective theatres. Some wore masks; most didn't. Sarah tugged at the slipping shoulder of her own costume. It was her mother's and too big. Her boobs had never grown to quite the size that she had hoped, and she suspected she wasn't going to inherit her mother's sex kitten curves. At eighteen, Sarah had lost hope of another growth spurt. The dress hung on her, dragging on the floor, the toes of her black Converse trainers peeking out from underneath.

She felt ridiculous. But, more than that, this party was ridiculous. Her mother had paraded her around like a new pet, cooing over her and saying all the right lines. She had been introduced to actors, directors, producers, backstage crew, owners of the local theatres…not one of them made an impression. She didn't bother to remember their names, or even register their faces. She simply smiled and tuned them out until she made her escape.

Sarah swapped out her glass for a full one from a passing tray. This side of the large ballroom was quiet, the voices muffled and the conversations coalescing into a discordant hum, nearly drowning out the soft song of the orchestra. She turned to peruse the buffet table, ultimately popping some kind of pastry wrapped meat into her mouth. Perhaps it wasn't fashionable to eat.

Leaning back against the table, she folded one arm across her chest as she sipped at her drink. She was feeling a little more mellow, and a little less like she wanted to scream. Even her mother's loud, grating laugh rising up from across the room to mock her, lost a little of its sharpness. She turned slightly to grab another of those meat-pastry things, pulling back when she saw something small and dark run under the table, the heavy velvet tablecloth swaying in its wake.

Setting her glass on the table, she bent down, slowly lifting the edge of the tablecloth to peer underneath. Empty. _She could have sworn she just saw…_

Sarah straightened, her fingers tapping against her lips and her brow wrinkled in confusion as she thought. When she had nearly convinced herself that she hadn't actually seen anything at all, and was about to resume her solitary post and disparaging internal commentary, she looked up to find someone watching her from across the room. She froze, staring back at him.

If anyone at this party could make an impression, he could. He was dressed much like the others, except more elegant, somehow, like his clothing had been tailored expressly for him rather than grabbed off a costume rack. His bedazzled navy blue coat fit snug on his torso, emphasizing the breadth of his shoulders and the slim line of his waist, ruffles spilling out from his sleeves and along his chest. Gray tights hugged slim, muscular thighs, disappearing into dark leather boots. His hair was electric, a shock of wild blond, sticking out every which way, seeming to catch the light from the chandeliers and sparkle. His thin lips moved, creating shadows along his angular face, as he answered the masked woman at his side, all the while watching Sarah. She had never seen anyone quite like him. He seemed to command the room effortlessly. She swallowed, fumbling behind her for her champagne glass to ease the dryness of her throat. The intensity in his mismatched eyes made her nervous, and she moved, slinking toward the end of the table where she'd be out of sight, grabbing a mini-quiche along the way.

Around the corner from the buffet table was an alcove empty except for a small table and chair, a tall potted plant reflected in the mirror on the wall. Sarah leaned against the archway, popping the quiche in her mouth and thinking about the man who had been watching her. She wondered who he was. Just as she brought the champagne glass to her lips to wash it down, she caught that same movement out of the corner of her eye, a dark shadow dashing from between the table and wall into the alcove behind her. She jumped and spun around.

Setting the glass on the table, she stepped tentatively into the small room, discovering that it wasn't really an alcove at all – a long narrow passageway ran alongside the wall. It was dark, and the walls were roughly hewn. She laid a hand on the entryway, leaning forward in an attempt to see through the darkness. She could just make out a small figure running down the hallway away from her. She took a few steps inside, the urge to follow it tugging at her. _What the hell is that…_

"Looking for something?"

Sarah gasped, startled, as she spun around to meet the face of the man who had been watching her moments before. She sunk back against the stone wall, her hand pressed to her chest in a vain attempt to calm her racing heart. She glanced up at him from under her lashes, catching her breath. "Damnit. You scared me."

He narrowed his eyes, studying her for a long moment before he spoke. "Who are you?" His voice was quiet, but resonant. It seemed to crawl under her skin, pulling her in, demanding her attention.

She straightened, slowly sliding up the wall, unnerved at the thinly veiled threat underlying his tone. "I'm…just a girl."

He smiled, condescendingly, she thought, with a slight tilt of his head. She watched him warily, as he leaned in so that his face was next to hers, his words a whisper in her ear, "You expect me to believe that?"

His breath against her skin sent shivers trilling down her spine, settling to flutter about in her stomach. Sarah tried to back up, but the wall behind her wouldn't relent. "Believe what you want." Her voice sounded weak and she silently cursed herself.

"Do you have a name, girl?"

"That's…" She swallowed, steeling herself before slipping out from under him. She wasn't going to play any of his pervy games. "That's none of your business." Satisfied that there was adequate strength behind her declaration, she offered him a brief derisive glance before stepping around him and out of the alcove. Before diving back into the sea of people, Sarah cast a quick look over her shoulder to find him leaning against the archway, watching her. She looked away, chewing absently at her bottom lip. She didn't like the way he made her feel.

Weaving through the crowd, she soon spotted her mother surrounded by a few of her cast mates. She came up beside her, interrupting whatever asinine story she was telling this time. "Can we leave?"

Her mother pursed her lips before smiling indulgently at her daughter. "Why would you want to leave? The party's only just beginning."

"I'm not feeling well."

Her mother leaned in, smelling her breath. Sarah pulled her head back at the invasion. "Have you been drinking, Sarah?" She made a small clucking sound with her tongue and smiled indulgently at her. "What would your father say?"

_He would probably sympathize, since you drove him to drink first._ Instead of voicing those thoughts, Sarah chose not to answer. _If you don't have anything nice to say…_

"Sarah, _dear_, why don't you get something to eat? You'll feel better." She patted Sarah on the cheek. "Have some fun."

_Right. Fun. _Getting accosted by pervy older men in drag at the buffet table was loads of fun. Giving her mother a parting glance that said, in no uncertain terms, that she was _not happy_, Sarah turned away to seek out the bathroom.

She really was feeling a bit shaky. Her cheeks felt warm and her head felt light and wobbly. Reaching the hallway that lead to the bathrooms, she paused as she stumbled upon a couple getting very friendly against the wall. He had to be at least twice her age, balding, and looking absolutely ridiculous in his ruffled knickers and buckled shoes. The girl, not much older than Sarah, was giggling as he traced a finger back and forth along her cleavage as he whispered in her ear. Sarah rolled her eyes before moving to the door and pushing inside. _Gross._

Stepping up to the sink, she took in her reflection: pale skin beneath pink flushed cheeks, glassy eyes. It had to be the champagne. That's all it was. Turning on the faucet, she cupped her hands under the running water, bending to splash it over her face. She repeated the action a few more times, the cool water making her feel a little less out of sorts. After drying her face with the towel hanging from a hoop on the wall, Sarah looked resolutely back at her reflection. _That's all it is, Sarah. You aren't seeing things, you're just intoxicated. You're a lightweight. Mystery solved._

Feeling a little better after her pep talk, though if she were completely honest with herself, not wholly convinced, Sarah pushed the door open, stepping back out into the hallway. She pulled up short when she discovered the couple from before had been busy while she'd been away. The girl's eyes were closed as the man kneaded her breast, fully exposed to anyone who might happen by, his other hand up her skirt. He was breathing heavily from his efforts, his balding head flushed red and his comb-over clinging damply to his skin.

_Oh, for the love of…_ She looked away quickly, shaking her head in an attempt to dislodge the mental image. "Get a room, people!" Sarah hurried past them into the ballroom, suspecting that they were much too involved in being gross to give any real thought to her suggestion.

As luck would have it, she walked right into the direct line of sight of her mother heading toward her from across the room, waving unabashedly. "Sarah! There you are! There's someone I want you to meet."

Sarah sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. This really wasn't her night. She waited for her mother to reach her before speaking, much more quietly. "Who?"

Her mother was positively beaming. "Our host has asked to meet you. It's quite an honor, you know. He's a great patron of the arts." She reached out to straighten the dress over Sarah's shoulders. "You would be smart to…_encourage_ him, since he's taken an interest."

Sarah looked blankly at her mother. "You want me to whore myself out?" She looked away, scanning the crowd, wondering who this host was. "Sure. Can do."

"Sarah, don't be so crass. Of course I don't want you to 'whore yourself out'. Just be your charming…" The pasted-on smile slid from her face as she assessed her irreverent daughter. Sarah could almost see the weight of it, the glue melting, the mask slipping down over her face to reveal the creased, sagging skin, the tired eyes. What effort it must take to play that role every day.

Before the mask slipped completely, her mother lifted the corners of her mouth forcefully, slamming it back into place. "Just be nice, please." She reached out to fluff her daughter's hair and Sarah batted her hands away. With a small sigh, her mother linked their arms, pulling Sarah along beside her. "At least smile. You're so much prettier when you smile."

Sarah plastered a smile on her face, batting her eyes at her mother. Her condescension was wasted as she simply smiled back at her, squeezing her arm. "That's my girl." She watched as her mother turned her head, her stage-ready smile ratcheting up a few notches. "Oh, Jareth! Perfect timing."

Sarah's smile dropped from her face as she locked eyes with the strange man from earlier.

"Jareth, this is my daughter, Sarah."

"Miss Williams." He took her hand, brushing his lips over the back of her fingers as he bowed slightly, holding her gaze. "Enchanted."

Sarah snatched her hand away as she continued to stare at him. A slow smile crept across his lips and she could see the amusement in his eyes. Her scrutiny faltered as she caught a shadow of movement near the floor. Looking down, her eyes grew wide as some sort of creature scurried up, latching itself onto Jareth's leg. She took a small step backwards, watching as Jareth reached down, stroking the red tuft of hair on top of its gnarled head, almost affectionately, before pulling out a single strand and letting it go to drift slowly to the ground. The little creature rubbed his head, glaring up at him.

Sarah's mouth hung open, and she blinked, shaking her head at the sound of her mother's keening voice.

"Sarah's going to be an actress, just like her mother."

She looked around the room frantically, scanning the oblivious faces before settling unbelievingly on her mother's. _Doesn't anybody else see that thing – creature? goblin? – standing right there in plain sight? What is wrong with everybody? How can they not see it? It's right there!_

"No, I think not." Sarah whipped her head around at the sound of his voice, low and deep and beckoning. His eyes searched hers, and she felt something like a shiver sweep though her mind and over her skin as his lips curved into a smile, his pointed teeth flashing. "I think she's destined for something else entirely."

-o0O0o-

_**Author's Note:**_

_So, sort of setting the scene for a non-existent story. I had to re-imagine Sarah a bit, given the change in circumstances. Here she's a bit jaded for eighteen, and views with disdain anything her parents hold in high regard. And perhaps even more unlikable than usual. ;)_

_It's almost 4am as I'm posting this, so if there are more mistakes than usual, that's why. :/ Apologies and such. _

_Thanks for reading! Please, leave a contribution in the little box. :)_


	17. Number 28: Sorrow

_**Author's Note:**_

_Again, not the darker one I mentioned. I'm too easily distracted. In the queue: sport, stripes, advertisement. If I post a theme story that is not one of these three, somebody slap me. Also, I am working on Chasing Dreams, for those of you who have been reading that one. I have vowed to get the next chapter to my lovely beta before I am allowed to write any more themes._

_Enough rambling from me (there's plenty more below). Enjoy!_

-o0O0o-

**Number 28: Sorrow**

"You know he did that on purpose, right?" Dee glanced back at Sarah as they made their way into the pub.

"No, he didn't," Sarah half-heartedly denied as she followed her in, eyes trained on her cousin's bouncing ponytail as they wove through the crowd.

"Yes, he did. He hid those keys. He was checking out your ass when you were looking under the couch." She looked back at Sarah pointedly. "He has a crush on you. It's totally gross. You're his freakin' cousin, for christ's sake."

"Oh, come on! He does not. And if he did, it's harmless." Sarah raised a recriminating brow. "You're one to talk, anyway. Remember when we were twelve, the family reunion, cousin Jeremy?"

Dee scanned the crowd as they moved further into the pub. "Second cousin, and that's completely different."

"_Right._ How's it different?"

"Because I'm not a gross 15-year-old boy. I know what he does when he locks himself in the bathroom for 20 minutes. And if he's in there, doing _that_, and he's thinking about…"

Sarah put a hand over her face, shaking her head. "Please, don't finish that thought…"

Dee glanced back at her, her own eyebrow raised. "See what I mean?"

Finally breaking through the crowd at the front of the pub, Dee waved as she spotted her friends and made a bee-line for their table near the stage, Sarah following closely behind. On the stage a band was apparently between songs, the guy she assumed was the lead singer giving direction to the musicians behind him, his back to the audience. He was dressed all in black, his spikey blond hair picking up the colored lights in the dim, smoky room.

Dee plopped into a chair with a grunt, Sarah sliding into the one next to her. "Sorry we're late. Stupid brother," Dee grumbled. "Did we miss much?"

The redhead beside her rolled her eyes. "He's been at it for almost an hour, so yeah, you kinda did."

"Damn." Dee turned to Sarah apologetically. "I'm sorry my brother's such a perv. I really wanted you to see this. He's probably almost finished."

The boy next to Sarah leaned forward with a smile, his brown hair flopping over his glasses and the scarf around his neck pooling on the table. "I'm Eric, by the way."

"Oh, god. I'm sorry." Dee shook her head, grimacing. "Sarah, these are my friends Sasha and Eric." She gestured vaguely with her hand. "Sasha and Eric, my cousin, Sarah."

"Hey." Sasha nodded and offered a friendly smile from across the table.

"Lovely to meet you. Alcoholic beverage?" Eric didn't bother to wait for Sarah's reply as he began pouring a glass of beer from a pitcher on the table. "One thing I'll never understand about you Americans is that you give people the vote at 18, but you can't drink until you're 21. You would think that being trusted to hold your liquor would be a prerequisite for voting the leaders of your country into office." He pushed it toward her, the foam sloshing over the edge, and clinked his glass to hers. "Cheers!"

Dee reached for the pitcher, bringing the conversation back around as she poured her own beer. "So, what's he done so far?"

"The classic heartbroken, angsty set we've come to know and love...Broken Wings, a little Phil Collins, Missing You by John Waite…" Sasha's eyes widened, and she looked over at Eric. "Purple Rain!"

"Purple Rain…," Eric echoed reverently. "Bloody fantastic."

"But the best so far, and you are going to be _so_ pissed that you missed it…," Sasha paused for dramatic effect, reaching out to grip Dee's arm on the table as if offering support, "…Do You Really Want to Hurt Me. Culture Club."

"No!" Dee's eyebrows shot up, and then quickly fell down into a pout. "Seriously? "

"Seriously, " Sasha confirmed. "It was incredible. With that voice of his and he did this melty thing in those _sinfully_ tight pants…" She shook her head, apparently overcome with the memory. "It was just…"

Eric sighed. "Incredible, god bless him…"

"And his pants." Sasha turned her attention to the man in question, hissing softly through her teeth in appreciation.

They all fell quiet as the band started up again, the melody lulling the crowd into a complacent stupor as all heads turned toward the stage. Sarah followed suit, recognizing the song: Wicked Game by Chris Isaak. The singer stepped up to the microphone, reaching out to cradle the head gently in his gloved hand, his mouth pressed close as he began to sing. His hair fell forward, obscuring his face, but his voice, low and deep, teased at her memory, raising goosebumps along her flesh.

Sarah leaned forward so she could be heard over the music. "Who is he?"

"No one really knows," Sasha answered, tearing her eyes away from the stage to shrug in Sarah's direction. "He just showed up one day."

"You see," Eric began, "Friday is karaoke night. A few years ago he just strolled into our humble establishment like some kind of venetian glam rock god, made a bee-line for the stage, and rocked that karaoke machine for all it was worth. And the rest…is history." He looked toward her. "He's been coming for years, always on a Friday, but you never know when or if he'll show. Never stays for a drink, never talks to anybody. He didn't even blink the first time a band was waiting for him. "

"There's actually a lottery to play back-up with him," Dee said, refilling her glass. "Everybody's dying to play with him. It's crazy. Every band for miles around is an 80s cover band."

"Makes me wish I could play in instrument," Eric confessed. "Just for the view."

Sasha grinned. "Eric has a bit of a crush."

"I'm completely infatuated. I actually tried to talk to him once. You know, offered to buy him a drink."

Sasha shook her head. "No. You said something much more lame."

"It doesn't matter what I said." Eric looked at Sarah from over his glasses. "Do you know what he did?"

Sasha leaned forward on the table in her eagerness to tell the story. "He just looked him up and down, slowly, his lip curling into this kind of sneer. Eric was practically drooling." She sat back. "And then he just turned and walked away. Didn't say a word."

Eric flopped back in his chair, his hand over his heart. "It was fabulous. It just made me want him more. He could kick me like a dog and I'd follow him anywhere."

The room broke out into applause as the song ended, the next beginning quickly on its heels. Eric sighed, taking a sip of his beer. "Last song."

"Last song," Sasha echoed softly with a shake of her head.

"He always, _always_ ends with the same song." Dee said, turning in her chair to better view the stage. "Sara by Jefferson Starship."

"It's so incredibly sad, the way he sings it." Sasha sighed, resting her chin on her folded hands as she stared up at him, the first notes of the song drifting down. "Whoever this 'Sara' was, she really messed him up bad."

Sarah's gaze drifted slowly up to the stage as she chewed at her bottom lip. She had a strange feeling about all this. Something niggled at the back of her mind, something she couldn't quite grasp. Stepping back from the microphone, he tossed his head, his wild hair flailing to reveal his face. Her eyes grew wide, and her breath caught in her throat. She knew that face. It was one she'd never thought she'd see again, but would never, ever forget.

The Goblin King.

Adrenaline flooded her system, her heart pounding in her ears and her breath coming in shallow gasps. Her body was screaming at her _'flight! flight! flight!' _but she couldn't seem to drag her eyes away. The siren call of his voice, eerie and seductive and beckoning, his face, cold and hard and beautiful - they pulled at her to stay. Glued to her chair, she stared up at him, open-mouthed, the words of the song washing over her…

"_Saaaarah, Saarahhh…storms are brewin' in your –"_

And that's when he saw her. Static screeched through the speakers as the microphone clattered to the floor. A collective gasp rose up from the crowd. The band came to a discordant, faltering stop. A hush fell over the room as all heads fixed expectantly on the couple, his intense mismatched blue eyes locked in silent battle with her terrified green.

A long moment passed before Jareth looked away. He reached down, taking a swig from the mug on the stool beside him. Gazing out over the heads of the audience, he righted his black leather vest and ran a gloved hand through his tousled hair. He slid her a sideways glance before turning to walk toward her. His eyes, cool and narrow, were trained on hers as he moved closer, the heels of his boots clicking ominously down the stage steps and onto the stone floor.

Sarah rose slowly from her chair, stumbling over the leg as she moved backward to stand beside it, her hand gripping the wooden back to steady herself. The urge to bolt was nearly overwhelming. But so was the urge to stay. She watched warily as he approached.

He came to a stop a mere foot away, his posture stiff as he looked down at her. "Sarah." His tone was formal, clipped. His eyes trailed down over her figure before flicking back up to hers. "You're looking well."

Sarah couldn't quite say the same. He looked…ravaged. His skin was paler than she remembered, pulled tight against the angles of his face, and dark circles pulled heavily at his tired eyes. But, in spite of it all, the shadow caressing his face seemed to buoy that otherworldly, ethereal quality about him somehow, gracing him with a kind of haunting beauty that rose up from the pain in his expression. She swallowed thickly before finding her voice and speaking quietly. "What are you doing here?"

"I grew up here." He glanced around the room briefly with barely concealed disdain. "It was much different then." When he looked back at her, his eyes burned. "And you? You're far from home. Come to lay devastation on another far away land - rip out its heart and never look back? Didn't get your fill the first time?"

_Wow. He was angry._ Sarah's hand flexed over the back of the chair as she took a step backward. "I…" She faltered, words fleeing at the accusation. The whispers of the crowd pricked at her ears and she could feel every eye on her, judging her, as they bandied her name about like a beach ball at a sports game. She swallowed nervously, looking around the room. She wasn't keen on having this conversation in front of an audience, but the alternative of having it alone, with him, was positively terrifying.

A voice rang out suddenly from the crowd. "Aw, forgive him, honey!"

Another answered. "If you don't, I will!"

And a third. "Come on, Sarah! Kiss and make up!"

This last sparked a chant that diffused through the room into a roar, complete with hands pounding and feet stomping. "Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss…"

Sarah whipped her head back to find Jareth still watching her intently. She unconsciously licked her lips, and his eyes flicked down at the movement. Her heartbeat raced in panic and possibilities as the chant continued to swirl around them. She could almost see the idea take hold, the words – _kiss, kiss, kiss_ - sinking in, crowding out all other thoughts until his eyes were dark with their shadow.

Just as she was about to heed the impulse to flee, someone, and if she ever found out who, she'd kill them, pushed her from behind. Sarah stumbled forward, Jareth's arms coming up to catch her. The scene seemed to fade as she stared up at him – the sounds muffled to a distant hum, and the prying eyes hidden behind the veil of his hair, backlit from the overhead lights, surrounding them in a pale golden glow. His eyes met hers for only moment before he crushed his lips to hers. His hand wove up through her hair, splaying across the back of her head, holding her to him, his other wrapping around her, pulling her in close. The kiss was passionate – angry, bittersweet, desperate. He teased at her lips, seeking entrance, and she opened to him. His tongue slid against hers, coaxing her response, the delicious heat of it sending tiny little flames licking under her skin, setting her body on fire. Her knees nearly buckled and she gripped his arms tighter.

He ripped his mouth away in response to lean forward, his voice a growl in her ear, "How's that for _power_, Sarah dear?"

Her body was practically humming with the power. It was electric, whatever this thing was between them. The sound of the whooping, hollering crowd came back fast as she fought to catch her breath.

A softer whisper at her throat sent shivers down her spine. "This isn't over, Sarah." Jareth pulled back, cupping her chin and lifting her eyes to his. "I _will_ come find you later. And you _will_ see me."

Sarah nodded, her little inner feminist waving her 'ok' feebly from her nearly unconscious position in the back of her mind.

"Say it."

"I'll…." Her voice sounded weak and uncertain. Sarah swallowed as she pushed back, transferring her weight from his arms to her still shaky legs. "I'll…see you."

He searched her face for a moment, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip, before turning and walking purposely toward the back entrance. It wasn't until the door clicked shut behind him that Sarah moved, flopping back into her chair like a rag doll, a similarly vacant, slightly dazed expression on her face. Seeing that her defenses were down, the crowd closed in, firing questions, their appetites whet with the taste of fan service, the need for more rampant in their crazed eyes.

Taking control of the situation, Dee stepped in front of her, arms held out wide. "Whoa! Back off people! She's just been properly snogged by a sex god. Give the girl room to breathe!" She grinned over her shoulder to find Sarah glaring back at her. When she had succeeded in shooing everyone away, at least for the moment, Dee plopped into her chair, her chin perched on her hand. "Oh, Sarah. Spill."

Sarah shook her head in an attempt to clear her own confusion. "There's nothing to tell, really. I barely even know him. It was so long ago. I didn't even think…" Her voice trailed off as she tried to make sense of what had just happened.

When it was apparent that nothing else was immediately forthcoming, Eric looked imploringly at Dee and Sasha, his face sullen. "You do realize that our Friday nights have just been buggered?"

"Well, he has been singing his heart out for years, all sad and desperate and heartbroken." Sasha gave a half-shrug, affecting a sympathetic, pained expression. "Kind of pathetic, really."

"Years he's been drowning his sorrow. Years!" Eric exclaimed. "And then the mysterious 'Sarah' just up and walks through the bloody door?"

Sasha's face lit up slowly. "You know, the least we can do is throw him a bone." She grinned. "Literally."

Dee's eyes grew wide. "Ooooh. Sexual tension."

Sasha nodded her head. "Sex and Rock 'n Roll, baby!"

"Oh, hey." Eric perked up, leaning forward on the table. "Hey, this might not be all bad. What if she's a tease, leads him on? All that built up passion needs a release somehow, right?"

"Ooooh. Release," Dee cooed as she leaned in. "If he's up there, thinking about Sarah, and singing all these sexy songs, that's bound to get those hips moving."

Sasha folded her arms on the table, nodding her head emphatically as she leaned forward to complete the conspiratorial trifecta. "And even when she gives it up, there's that new relationship glow, you know? All the sex and the can't-get-enough-of-each-other thing? All kinds of potential there!"

"Hey!" Sarah glared around the table at her three companions. "You do realize that I'm still sitting right here, right?"

All three heads turned to look at her, their eyes narrowed and calculating as they studied her. She could almost hear the gears turning. Eric leaned toward her, turning on the charm. "Sarah, do you think you could…"

_Christ._ Sarah plopped her head down on the table, her hair falling around her face in a curtain, blocking them out. She didn't have room in her thoughts for their ridiculous plotting. She turned her face sideways, the wooden tabletop cool against her flushed cheek. Her head was still spinning, her skin still tingling. She breathed in, exhaling slowly as she willed the emotions clambering in her head to stop, line up, and present themselves one by one for inspection. She needed to think this through.

But all she could really think about was that she'd be seeing him again later…

And that _kiss…_

-o0O0o-

_**Author's Note:**_

_I know, I know – karaoke. It's been done to death. We do know that the GK has a tendency to break into song to express his feelings, so it's a natural progression. Anyway, here's my stab at it. Hopefully, it's out of my system and you won't see another._

_Sorry for the lyric. I hate prose-ifying singing, but I couldn't find a good way around it._

_Many thanks to the Harem for brainstorming angsty, heartbreaky 80s songs with me! :) For inquiring minds, the songs he sang on this particular night: Broken Wings by Mr. Mister, Missing You by John Waite, Against All Odds by Phil Collins, Purple Rain by Prince (just for you Nessa!), Do You Really Want to Hurt Me by Culture Club, Wicked Game by Chris Isaak, and Sara by Jefferson Starship (which was the very first cassette tape I personally owned. I'm totally dating myself.)_

_Thanks for reading! Please, leave a contribution in the little box. :) Reviews are much appreciated and constructive criticism is always welcome._


	18. Number 36: Precious Treasure

_**Author's Note:**_

_Having a bit of writer's block lately, so just needed to get some words on a page. This is the result. Enjoy!_

-o0O0o-

_**Number 36: Precious Treasure**_

She was seeing things.

She _had_ to be seeing things.

Sarah sucked in her bottom lip and bit down. Without registering it as a conscious decision, she pressed her foot on the brake and let the car come to slow stop, the inertia seeming to transfer to the butterflies in her stomach. She gripped the steering wheel hard and then turned her head.

It was just as she thought. She hadn't been imagining it at all. The Goblin King was actually sitting in a folding chair by a roadside fruit stand reading the newspaper.

There was no way that could be a good thing.

Her inner heroine snapped to attention and took charge. Throwing the car into reverse, she backed up, maneuvering it to park in the grassy bank on the side of the road. She slammed the door as she hopped out, whipping around and steeling herself for battle.

Except…there didn't appear to be a battle to fight. He hadn't even lifted his gaze from his newspaper. If he had seen her, he didn't seem to care.

Sarah knit her brows together, worrying her bottom lip. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. Was it? She had expected their reunion to be some huge dramatic…drama. But this? What was she supposed to do with this?

Shoving her hands in the back pockets of her shorts, Sarah walked the white painted line cautiously, coming to a stop directly in front of her former nemesis. He looked much as she remembered him - the wild hair, the pale skin, the strange, otherworldly beauty.

She waited for him to look up. He didn't.

Frowning, she huffed out a breath and took the plunge. "What are you doing here?"

Jareth glanced at her over the top of the newspaper. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

"It looks like you're selling peaches."

"Did you figure that out all by yourself? How clever of you." He went back to reading his paper.

Sarah narrowed her eyes at the slight. "Are they drugged?"

He sniffed dismissively. "Hardly. Did you not see the orchard behind me with your amazing powers of observation?"

She hadn't. She'd been too fixated on one nefarious goblin king that did not belong there. She made a quick scan of the landscape. There was, in fact, an orchard. A very large one. Complete with a huge run-down farmhouse and goats. It was all very…ordinary.

Which made it very odd.

She settled her hands on her hips. "Okay. _Why_ are you selling peaches?"

Jareth sighed, letting the newspaper fall to his lap. "It's really none of your business."

Sarah opened her mouth to reply, but promptly snapped it shut. She didn't know what to say to that. She tried again, failed, and then settled on a frown.

He raised a brow. "Are you going to buy any?"

"No." Was he kidding? Like she'd really buy peaches from him.

He lifted the paper again, shielding his face. "Then leave. You're scaring away my customers with that sour face of yours."

_Pardon? _Sarah gaped at him, but her incredulity went unappreciated since he didn't bother to notice. Noting the absence of cars on the country road, her annoyance spiked, and she aimed the pointy ends at the source. "What customers?"

"Ah, yes..." His eyes seemed to skip over her as he surveyed the deserted road. Then they pinned her like a bug on a mat. "I think you may be bad luck."

Sarah stared back at him blankly. He really seemed to want her to leave.

Why should this bother her?

She worried her lip again, realized she was doing it, and stopped. Pulling her spine straight she gave him her best I-don't-give-a-damn look. "Fine. I'll leave."

He simply nodded and went back to his paper.

She hesitated a moment before turning and stomping back to her car. Her fingers curled under the hot plastic of the door handle, she lifted and…paused.

The rational side of her brain gave her a mental shove._ Just leave, Sarah…_

_But…_

It persisted._ Go now, while you have the chance…_

She glanced up to see that he had shifted, his shoulders hunched as the newspaper dangled between his knees. He ran a hand through his ragged hair in the universal sign of frustration as he stared off in the opposite direction.

_Damnit._

She let the latch fall with a loud snap and walked purposely back to the fruit stand.

"Why are you selling peaches," she demanded.

He squinted up at her. "Still here?"

"Tell me why."

He leaned back in his chair and regarded her critically. "If you must know, someone has something precious to me and I want it. He has agreed to relinquish it if I sell all of these peaches." He waved a hand vaguely at the bushels of fruit on the table.

Sarah blinked at him owlishly. She didn't know what she was expecting, but it certainly wasn't that.

She returned his critical assessment with a tilt of her head. "Someone has something precious to you?"

"Yes."

"And you have to sell these peaches to get it?"

"Was I not clear enough the first time?"

She opened her mouth to retort but was distracted by the rumble of an engine. A Volkswagen made the slow turn onto the road and headed toward them. They watched its progress, their heads moving in unison as it drove past.

She turned back to see Jareth still watching it. She was almost certain she was seeing things again, but she would swear that there was a slight pout to his lips.

_Damnit. Damnit. Damnit._

"Hey."

It took a moment for him to realize she had spoken and drag his gaze away from the lost sale. "What do you want now?"

"You know, you're never going to sell all these peaches if you just sit there like a lump."

He raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. "You think you can do better?"

"I know I can do better." Years of schlepping cheap lemonade to unsuspecting neighbors could attest to that.

Making a flash decision, against her better judgment, Sarah moved past him to lean against the front of the fruit stand.

"I thought you were leaving."

She made a concerted effort not to look at him. "I thought so, too."

"What is it you think you're doing?"

"You said it was something precious to you, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, I'm helping."

"Did I ask for your help?"

"No. But you obviously need it."

He leaned forward in his chair eyeing her with ill-concealed disdain. "Do you make a habit of forcing your company on others?"

Sarah resisted the urge to bean him. "Do you make a habit of snubbing help when it's offered?"

She was spared his retort when another car turned toward them. Stepping roadside, she smiled and waved. The car pulled over to the shoulder, an older couple climbing out. Sarah helped them pick out a dozen peaches as they slid curious glances at the odd looking man watching them, took their money and smiled as they drove away.

She turned to the Goblin King, who had remained seated during the exchange, and raised an eyebrow. "See? Piece of cake."

"Still using such trite expressions?" He didn't seem to expect an answer, resuming his perusal of the newspaper.

So he did actually know who she was. She had been wondering. If anything, that revelation seemed to make things worse. If he knew who she was…

Sarah sighed and readjusted her ponytail. Shielding her eyes, she kept watch on the road.

"Do you always wander about so scantily clad?"

His voice startled her out of her thoughts. "What?"

"You're turning red."

"Huh?"

"Perhaps you should sit." He gestured vaguely to a chair behind the fruit stand that had not been there before. A rainbow colored umbrella perched jauntily on top.

"Oh." Sarah glanced down to realize he was right. Beneath the mesh top covering her bathing suit, her skin was decidedly pink. _Perfect._

She sat down with a huff, grateful for the shade. Not that she would say that.

"What is a ThighMaster and would you pay $20 for one?"

Sarah sent him a confused look. "Pardon?

He continued to stare at his paper, enunciating carefully as though she were daft. "A ThighMaster – what is it and would you purchase one for $20?"

"Ah…no." She looked away and mumbled the last bit. "You don't need one of those."

"I didn't ask you if I needed it. I asked you what it was."

She was saved from answering as a car approached. Sarah popped up and hoisted a basket onto her hip. Stepping to the edge of the asphalt, she waved. The sedan slowed to a stop, a kid grinning at her as he rolled down the window.

Sarah leaned down to eye level, smiling at the woman in the driver's seat and then at the boy in front of her. "Hey, kiddo. We're selling peaches to recover a lost treasure. Want to help us out and buy some?"

He leaned his head out the window. "Who's that guy?"

Sarah turned to look in the direction the boy was pointing. "That guy is the Goblin King." Jareth looked up at hearing his title and his eyes met hers. "He might juggle for you if you ask him."

"Cool."

That was all it took. They pulled to the roadside, the boy running over to gaze hopefully up at Jareth while Sarah helped his mother with the peaches. Surprisingly enough, Jareth smiled at him and graciously agreed to his request. The boy laughed, amazed at the peaches that seemed to defy gravity, and Sarah smiled. As they were leaving, Jareth even gave him some pointers to try on his own.

"Not so hard, huh?" Sarah asked as they drove off.

His smile faded as he resumed his seat and his reading. "Did I say it was difficult? You assume too much. Not that I'm surprised."

Sarah pursed her lips and chose not to comment. Flopping back in her chair, she wondered what the hell she was doing.

He didn't want her there. He'd made that much clear. He hadn't asked for her help. He was only tolerating her presence because she forced it on him.

So what the hell was she doing? Why was she still here?

She should be at home right now doing laundry and cleaning the house, not helping mythical kings sell peaches to obtain some precious unknown treasure.

Why should she even help him? It's not like he deserved it. He was her enemy. Or was, at least.

It was stupid. She was stupid.

Stupid, stupid Sarah.

She should leave. She should just stand up right now, get in her car and drive away.

Sarah blew out a breath and slid him a sideways glance. He wasn't looking at her.

God, she was pathetic. Really, really sad.

Why was she here?

Because she was curious. Because it was definitely more interesting than organizing her pantry.

Because this wasn't how it was supposed to go.

In all the possibilities she had dreamed up over the years, not in a single one was he…indifferent. And that's what he was. Maybe slightly annoyed, but mostly just indifferent.

The realization hurt more than it probably should, and definitely more than she wanted to admit. She had obsessed about him for years and she meant absolutely nothing to him?

And here she was, trying to make him realize she was worth noticing so she could…what? Vanquish him?

The sound of an engine rattled her out of her thoughts. Standing, she waved at the couple getting out of their car and resigned herself to an afternoon selling peaches. If she was going to be ridiculous, she might as well play it through to the end. She wasn't a quitter.

The hours passed quickly, Sarah waving down cars and Jareth dazzling their occupants with his charm and magic tricks. All but one of the peaches had been sold. They both stood staring down into the bucket.

Jareth reached for it and held it out to her. "Buy it."

Sarah took a step back. "It's bruised."

"You were probably careless with it." He moved it closer and she could smell the sweetness. "Buy it."

"Oh, no." Sarah held up her hands to ward off temptation. "I'm not eating any fruit that has anything to do with you."

"Then buy it for me. I'm famished."

"Fine. Because it means we're done here and I can go home with a clear conscience."

Sarah made a production of fishing out a dollar bill from her pocket and placing it on top of the stack.

She arched a brow. "Satisfied?"

"Not even close, but it will have to suffice."

She watched attentively as he took a bite. She didn't know why, exactly. It wasn't as if she expected anything to happen. People had been eating peaches all day and they all seemed to be perfectly okay when they left.

Except that something did happen. He made a slight face, pulling something out from between his lips. He sucked it gently, and then held it up and smiled. She could just make out the words, "Clever, old man," and then he began to fade.

Sarah panicked and reached toward him. "Wait!"

He came back in full color, looking thoroughly annoyed. "What is it?"

"I…um…" Sarah searched frantically, her eyes finally finding the small trinket in his hand. Her eyes ballooned in surprise and then narrowed. "That's mine!"

"No. It's mine. I just won it."

She glared up at him. "That's my ring. I left it in the Labyrinth. I want it back."

"Exactly my point. You left it in the Labyrinth. You exchanged it for advice, poor advice if I say so myself, and therefore no longer have any claim to it."

"What do you want with a stupid plastic ring?"

"That's none of your concern."

"Give it to me!" She reached for it just as he slipped his hand behind his back.

He leaned forward so that they were eye-to-eye. "No."

Sarah reached around him to snatch at the ring, not caring that she was physically assaulting the Goblin King to get it. He lifted it above his head and she jumped for it. "Give it to me, right now!"

"Have you always been this wanton or is it a new thing?" He switched the ring to his other hand and held it away from her. "Perhaps you should learn some self-control."

Sarah stilled and took a deep breath as she glared at him. It wasn't that she really wanted the stupid thing, but she just didn't want him to have it. The mere fact that he wanted it, that he had sat out on a dusty road selling peaches all afternoon to get it, made her nervous.

"I want you to give me my ring."

"It's my ring, and no."

Sarah chewed her bottom lip as she scrambled for a solution. She looked up to find him watching her, and stared at him a long moment before speaking. "I'll give you something else in exchange."

His gaze slid over her stoically and he sneered as he met her eyes. "What could you possibly have that I'd want?"

She tried not to feel slighted at his cold perusal and lifted her chin. "What do you want?"

He looked away, quiet as he flipped the ring hypnotically from knuckle to knuckle. When the ring paused, he spoke. "The book."

"You want…the book?"

"Yes. I assume you still have it?"

"Of course. Of course I still have it." But the thought of letting it go, of not having it…

She felt her stomach clench, but she fought back the feeling of loss that was threatening to pull her under and looked up at him steadily. "Okay. I just have to go home and get it—"

"You expect me to stand here and wait? I think I'll just take the ring."

And then he began to fade again.

"No! Wait!" She sighed in relief when he seemed whole again. "Okay. Fine. Come with me then. I know where it is."

He gestured for her to step past him. "Lead the way…Sarah."

Her name slid like satin from his lips just as she passed him and she faltered.

She really was pathetic. Squaring her shoulders, she continued the march toward her car, determined not to look back and let him see just how much.

-o0O0o-

Absently, he flipped the ring over his fingers one by one, his eyes never leaving his prey. The ring disappeared in a small flash. It had gone much better than he had hoped. A slow smile curled his lips as he moved to follow. And now for the kill. Metaphorically speaking, of course.

Such a precious thing, his Sarah…

-o0O0o-

_**Author's Note:**_

_Thanks for reading! Please, leave a contribution in the little box. ;) Constructive criticism is always welcome._


	19. Number 76: Broken Pieces

**Number 76: Broken Pieces**

**~o0O0o~**

******Warning:** You probably don't want to read this one. No, really. There's a strong ick factor. No one can blame you for walking away. ;)

~o0O0o~

_**Author's Note: **_

_It's been just over a year since I wrote one of these, and I'm sorry that this is what I have to offer. It's a bit of a departure from the regularly scheduled programming. My deepest apologies for what you are about to read._

~o0O0o~

Hoggle grunted as he hefted the tea kettle onto the hook and pushed it over the grate. A nice cup of tea, a warm fire, and quiet—that's what he needed. Just some time to clear his head.

He rubbed the back of his neck with a sigh as he stared into the flames. His thoughts were all mixed up. He had tried not to think about it, throwing himself into his work. He'd reset the wards, swept away all traces of Sarah's ever having been there, cleared out the spitting algae blooms that had sprung up in the wading pool overnight, and redefined the meaning of "fairy hill" for all the ages to come, beating his previous record. He was pretty proud of that last. It was funny that his first thought was to see if Ludo or Sir Didymus were around to show it off. But then that just felt weird. After the high of Sarah's party last night, he'd never felt more low or more alone. So much had changed, and yet somehow seemed to stay the same.

And now, with no distractions…

His hands shook and he rubbed them against his thighs. What had he done? Why did she have to—

A voice came up behind him like a winter wind in autumn. "Perhaps I've misjudged you."

Hoggle jumped, spinning around and stumbling back into a pail of ashes. Jareth stepped out from the shadowy corner of the cottage, the firelight casting his features in harsh peaks and valleys. A vision of the Beltane fires flashed, and Hoggle thought back on that night, of Jareth's face, feral and powerful, as he danced around the fire, of the wild abandonment that followed, and of how he had wished he was part of it and not just an observer.

The memory shattered as Jareth moved toward him, the clip of his boots against the stone floor echoing along Hoggle's spine until he trembled. When Jareth stopped, a mere foot separating them, Hoggle met his stoic gaze with trepidation. "Though, I should have suspected. You're not known for your loyalty, after all."

It was a low blow, but not an unfair one.

He had been set to marry once. Aggie. She was the eldest daughter of the wealthiest mining family in the Southlands. It was a political move, meant to unite the clans of the north and south to strengthen the alliance and give hope to the faltering revolt against the Goblin Kingdom. He hadn't had an opinion of Aggie one way or another, only knew it was his duty. He'd resigned himself to it, even as a lad, working hard in the mines, trying to bury the unnatural pangs that clawed at his heart, smoke them out and leave them to smolder, forgotten beneath the rocks and dust.

A week before his wedding, he met the Goblin King.

Jareth must have known somehow. He had seen through him, seen his secret shame and fanned it. _Just fear me, love me, do as I say…and you can have everything that you want…_

In exchange, Jareth had wanted information, and Hoggle had provided it. He had disgraced his family, turned traitor, exiled to the very kingdom his family had been fighting against. He could never go back.

But Jareth had kept his end of the bargain for all of that. Hoggle didn't need much – a small cottage, a job to do, to be left alone.

Jareth knelt in front of him, his nearness pulling Hoggle back to the present. Jareth tilted his head, his expression softening, but his eyes cold, and reached out, hefting the weight of Hoggle's treasure bag in his palm. "Do I not give you pretty things?"

The words hurt as the sharp reminder of all that had happened the day before sliced through to Hoggle's gut. He _had_ betrayed him. He had sworn his allegiance to the Goblin King all those years ago, had given himself over completely, and, in an instant, thrown it all aside at the simple offer of friendship from a human girl.

He had never had a friend before.

The closest he'd ever come to it was…

But Jareth was no friend. He called on him for favors, and Hoggle did as he was told, because that's how things were done. And the other times, the times, like now, when Jareth came by in the wee hours of the night…they never spoke of it in the light of day. It was almost like a dream, gone by morning. And that was fine by him.

But then Sarah came and changed everything. The way Jareth had fixated on her, like with no other runner before... Hoggle had been jealous, for the first time in his long, miserable life, while at the same time drawn to Sarah himself. And when Jareth had threatened him about the kiss, he wondered if maybe he had been a little bit jealous too…

Jareth moved to stand, and Hoggle reached down, his fingertips just brushing Jareth's as his hand slid away from the treasure bag hanging from his belt. Hoggle grasped it, its existence, the mere fact that he that he could hold it, giving him some small measure of strength. He wondered, as he often did, if Jareth gave him the jewels as a kindness or a cruelty.

Jareth's boot scraped against the stone floor as he stepped back, and Hoggle realized then that he didn't care. He fell to his knees, burying his face against Jareth's slender thigh as he clung to him. "Forgive me, yer Majesty!"

Jareth tsked softly. "Oh? But forgiveness must be earned." He tilted Hoggle's face up with a hand beneath his chin. "And what could you possibly have to offer me?"

Hoggle desperately searched that cruel, beautiful face for any chance of salvation. "Please, yer majesty…anything…"

Jareth stared down at him for what felt like the longest, most excruciating moment of Hoggle's life before he spoke. "Show me how sorry you are," he ran a leather-clad thumb along Hoggle's bottom lip, "and perhaps I'll consider if you deserve it. I can be generous."

Hoggle grasped his slender thighs, his gaze dropping, feeling equal parts relief and anticipation, because he knew just how to please his King.

~o0O0o~

_**Author's Note: **_

_Again, really, really sorry. (But still, please leave a contribution in the little box? I pinky promise there will be no more of this in future themey writings.) At least it was short and made judicious use of the fade to black. _

_Thanks for reading!_


	20. Number 73: I Can't

_**Number #73: I Can't**_

~o0O0o~

_**Author's note:**_

_Rather than a proper one-shot like most of these 100 Themes tend to be, this really is just a drabbly scene. Now, I know more about this story than you will, but not a whole heck of a lot more. This is actually a scene for a sequel to another story I haven't actually written. I know. Anyway… since I don't know if I'll ever get around to writing it, I'm just letting this scene out of the Dungeon of Forgotten Fics to get a little sunshine and fresh air. _

_P.S. And, yes, this brings us back to regularly scheduled programming. It's a vain attempt to step back from the ledge of authorial suicide. ;)_

_P.P.S. I do what I want. ;) But I still feel slightly guilty about it. Just pretend that last chapter never happened. It'll all be okay._

~o0O0o~

Sarah straightened the files and papers on her desk and turned off the lamp. The room faded to dark, the glow from the street light outside filtering in through the aluminum blinds, casting dirty yellow bars across the far wall. She rolled her shoulders, kneading the tense muscles along the back of her neck.

She stood, sighing as she stared blankly at the nondescript blue folder lying conspicuously on her desktop. She slid her hand across the cover as if somewhere in the tiny cardboard crevices were the answers she needed.

This new case . . . It was inevitable, she knew. It wasn't over. She wasn't sure if it would ever be over. It made her doubt herself, to wonder if she was strong enough to go through this again, to keep going through this, over and over until . . . What? She gave up? Could she even do that? When she had taken this assignment, she had been so sure of herself. But that was before she knew the truth. And now she wondered if the choice had even really been hers, or if she had been led here.

But what did any of that matter? When you knew, could you put it away in a box and pretend it wasn't real? Somewhere out there a little girl was scared, lost and lonely, waiting for someone to rescue her.

Resolved, Sarah reached for the bag stowed under her desk. She knew she'd be up all night speculating anyway, so she might as well take the file home and get a head start.

Something slightly off pinged her sixth sense and she whirled around, pulling her gun out of the holster at her waist. She could hear the blood pounding in her ears as she searched the dark corners of the room, the gun held steady in front of her. In an inky oozing, like something out of a nightmare, the shadows coalesced, taking on weight and shape, and she aimed at their heart, her stance certain but her resolve shaky. She knew who it was and why he was here. She had been hoping to delay this moment, but…what was that saying? No rest for the wicked? She had been—a moment of weakness, the metaphorical chink in her armor—and he, the living embodiment of everything that would be her downfall, most definitely was, all of the time.

She swallowed the lump of burgeoning panic in her throat before finding the words that had been carried off in the tide of adrenaline. "Where is the child?" It was more demand than question. She could hear the years of training in her voice, calm and authoritative, and it steadied her.

The intruder moved silently along the back wall, neither fully here nor there, his eyes glinting like broken glass as he sifted through the bars of light toward her. "You know very well where she is." A teasing amusement underlay the words, as if it were some inside joke they shared. As if they were friends.

Sarah cocked the hammer. "Give her back."

He laughed, low and mocking, as he leaned backward against the wall directly across from her, crossing his arms over his chest. "Playing a game, are we? And are you prepared to be called on that bluff?"

"Try me."

He pushed off from the wall, extending his arms out to his sides in invitation as he walked toward her. When he stopped a few feet in front of her, he lowered his arms, his lips settling into a knowing smirk. "You're not going to shoot me, Sarah."

At his words, she realized she'd lowered her weapon. Silently cursing herself, she tightened her grip and centered her aim, his condescension pissing her off. "Are you so sure? Do you bleed, Goblin King?"

She hadn't even seen him move. He was on her in a heartbeat, pressing her back against the wall with the full length of his body, her hand gripping the gun caged at the wrist above her head. His voice was soft and laced with threat when he spoke, his face close to hers. "Oh, I bleed, Sarah. I bleed every time you look at me like that—with distrust and derision in your eyes." He dipped his head, skimming along her neck. She could feel his breath warm against her skin. "Perhaps I'll let you find out some day." First, a brush of his lips, and then the sharp points of his teeth found her pulse point, and she gasped. He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, an arrogant smile on that dangerous mouth. "That could be interesting."

Sarah yanked down on her arm, desperately needing some space to breathe. He held fast, and she turned her head away, closing her eyes and taking slow, deep breaths, trying to ignore the heat of him pressed against her, the way he smelled, like the clove cigarettes she used to smoke in college – a sweet, spicy, dark scent. Why couldn't he have come to her then, when she was reckless, without a care in the world? It would have been so much easier. But maybe that was the point. He wanted to torment her.

She opened her eyes, but refused to look at him. "What do you want from me, Jareth?" Her voice sounded weak and tired, but that was exactly how she felt.

In answer, his free hand traced along her collarbone, and then dipped lower, his fingers finding the owl pendant hidden discreetly under her blouse, closing over it possessively as he leaned in, his cheek brushing against hers. He whispered against her ear, sending cool shivers down her spine. "What are you offering?"

"Sarah?" Eric's voice cut sharply through the haze, his footsteps ringing out in the after-hours hush of the station as he headed toward her office.

Jareth nuzzled her neck, and she felt his grip on her wrist loosen. "And here comes the good lawman to spoil all our fun." He raised his head, his gaze finding hers before sliding downward to where his fingers traced softly at the corner of her mouth. With the pad of his thumb, he tugged gently at her bottom lip, and she felt it all the way down to her toes. A slow smile curled his lips, full of devilish promise. "Next time." And then he was gone.

A second later, Eric poked his head into the doorway, looking around briefly in confusion. "I thought I heard voices."

"Uh…no. Just talking to myself." She fought the urge to slump to the floor and pushed off the wall instead, holding the gun against the back of her thigh, thankful for the dark. "You know how it gets sometimes—too many thoughts in your head…" She bent to pick up her bag, sliding the gun back into the holster beneath her jacket while she was out of sight. She tried for a smile as she stood and slipped the blue folder into her bag. "You headed home?"

He accepted her explanation with an easy smile, but she noted the suspicion lurking in the tight corners, his eyes calculating as they poked holes in the flimsy veneer of calm she was desperately trying to keep together. He leaned against the door frame. "You know, I was thinking of maybe going over to O'Malley's for a bit, for a drink, if you want to come along? If you're not busy, that is…You probably want to go home, though." He shoved one hand in his pocket, the other making a rough swipe through his hair as he looked down at his shoes. "It's late, isn't it? Kind of a long day."

"Actually," Sarah slipped the bag over her shoulder and walked toward him, "I could really use a drink."

He looked up. "Yeah? Really? Okay, great! Let me just grab my coat and then we can walk over." He took off toward his office, glancing back at her as if she might run away. "I'll just be a sec. My treat, okay?"

"Yeah, okay." Sarah felt herself smile, amused despite her shattered nerves. She felt a little guilty that she was giving him false hope. Eric was a nice guy, and he deserved a nice girl who was devoted to him. But she needed him right now. She didn't trust herself to be alone.

She turned to close her office door, her fledgling smile fading as she scanned the dark interior. She wasn't sure when "next time" would be, but she wasn't ready to go home and find out. She needed to shore up her resources. She needed to remember how to say no. And she couldn't think of anything she wanted more right now than a strong drink, or five.

She pulled the door closed and leaned against it, resting her head against the cool wood.

Except that one thing.

But that…no matter how much she wanted it…she couldn't do that.

~o0O0o~

_**Author's note:**_

_A little clarity…Sarah is cop-ish with a particular specialty in missing children cases. She and Jareth are most definitely on opposite sides of the good/bad line here. But, despite that, in the unwritten story that comes before this unwritten story, they had a "moment." Also, point of interest: Sarah doesn't carry a gun in the first unwritten story._

_Actually, I know more about this story than I let on…_

_Thanks for reading! Please, leave a contribution in the little box. :)_

~o0O0o~


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